


Will You Wait Till 3am?

by HesitateDisintegrate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Angst, Bartender Castiel (Supernatural), Caring Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Needs a Break, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Drunk Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Underage Drinking, Vulnerable Dean Winchester, Young Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28573065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HesitateDisintegrate/pseuds/HesitateDisintegrate
Summary: Castiel is a bartender. His night is going fairly well until a breathtakingly beautiful man stumbles in and he just can't help being drawn to him.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 55
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel pulled another glass from the counter and wiped around it’s rim even though it was already sparkling clean. He knew the mark of a good bartender was to always look busy, and damn if he wasn’t a good bartender. He switched out the glass and gave the teeny bar a cursory glance. 

It wasn’t a super busy night, the customers were mostly his regulars and a couple stragglers looking to escape the biting January cold for a few hours. Crowley had some trivia game running. Everyone had ordered drinks and abandoned the bar in favour of grabbing a table and playing. 

“And for twenty points, which famous singer’s real name is Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta?

Cas huffed out a laugh. You’d think after ten years of working in the same place he would know the answers to these questions but somehow, pop culture still managed to evade him. 

The door jingled and Cas looked up with a ready nod for his next customer, but the young man was glaring at the ground. Cas watched him walk over. His furious attitude chilled the room almost as much as the small gust of snow that entered with him. 

He sat on the edge of a barstool like he didn’t trust the chair. Cas set down the glass he had been wiping and slung the dry cloth over his shoulder. 

“What can i get for you?”

The man looked up at him slowly and Cas’s lungs stopped working because _damn_ those were the greenest and most depressed eyes he had ever seen. 

“Whatever’s closest,” the man answered in a low rasp. He had the slightest hint of a southern drawl and that definitely should not have gone straight to Cas’s crotch but it did. He poured the man a shot of whiskey and slid it over. He tossed it back like it was nothing and set the empty shot glass down so carefully it barely made a sound. Cas refilled it only to have the man immediately drink again. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Cas asked quietly. After working the joint for years, anyone would be able to tell when someone walked in with a problem. He wanted to help. He definitely wasn’t asking just in hopes of hearing the man talk again. Nope, definitely not.

The man slid the empty glass to Castiel again, who paused before refilling it. 

“Ain’t nothing you can do about it my friend.” He tossed back the third shot and Cas watched the long flex of his neck. Either he was used to this drinking pace or was looking to get blackout drunk. Cas watched the man run a hand roughly through his hair and something in his heart twisted at the sight. 

“Probably not but it’s sort of in my job description to be a pay as you go shrink,” Cas joked. Okay obviously that wasn’t entirely true but at this point, Cas was curious. He let his gaze wander appreciatively over the man’s large frame. He was tall, but still young enough to not have fully filled out yet. 

The man looked at him and Cas could see the shine in his eyes. He had probably been drinking for a while before he came to the bar. 

“Family trouble, no point borin’ you with it.”

Cas leaned over the counter and took an exaggerated look down the bar. 

“I don’t have much going on tonight anyways. Try me.”

The man sighed and fixed Cas with a hard look. He should probably drop it, but something in Cas’s heart told him that the guy sitting in front of him needed to talk. It wasn’t that his body language was screaming _help me_ , more that he looked too easy to take advantage of in this state. That look always scared Cas; the one that said _I don’t give a damn what happens from here on out._

“My brother wouldn’t shut up about leaving for college when he got older. Dad threw a fit and I got in the way and he was already drunk before the whole thing started so it didn’t end too well. He pushed me outside and said not to come back.” 

Cas stared at him open mouthed for a few seconds before remembering it was rude to stare. He distractedly poured the man another shot and watched as he downed it, no longer judging his drinking pace. Hell if he’d just got kicked out, he’d probably be in the same boat. 

“So now that you know my life story, what’s yours?” The man asked with a sudden bitter laugh. 

Cas picked up another glass and began wiping it, just to have something to do with his hands. 

“I didn’t realize the shrink had to share too,” he teased.

“Come on man. Throw me a line here. You want me to wallow in my self pity all night?”

Cas smirked and switched out his glass again. “I got a degree in history straight out of high school, then I realized I can’t do anything with it, and I got a job here. That was ten years ago.”

The man hummed and moved to take another drink from his shot glass before realizing it was already empty. He skidded it pathetically between his hands instead. 

“Are you happy?” The man asked, looking drunkenly up at him. His eyes were seriously very green and Cas desperately wanted to reach out and smooth down his wild hair. 

“As happy as anyone I suppose.”

The man scoffed. “Thats not a real answer.”

Cas hummed in agreement. “Well you asked a difficult question.” 

The man shrugged. 

“Are you?” Cas asked back, refilling the man’s shot glass. He looked deep into the amber liquid for a few long moments before drinking it in one mouthful. 

“Fuck no.”

For some reason, that answer was like a shot straight to Cas’s heart. He didn’t know the guy sitting in front of him, heck, he didn’t even know his name, but he knew in that moment that if he was ever given the chance, he would do his best to make him happy.

“What are you going to do now?” Cas asked.

“I dunno. I guess I was thinkin’ to stay here until I get kicked out and then walk around.”

“It’s freezing outside,” Cas said numbly. The man looked up at him like he had never heard a more stupid comment. 

“Yeah that’s why I was going to walk instead of lay down and freezing to death somewhere. Not like I’d be able to find an empty motel room in the middle of nowhere right after the holidays.”

Cas felt his next stupid comment form in his mind a split second before it came out of his mouth, but it was too late to stop it.

“You’re not wandering around in the cold. You’re spending the night with me.”

Cas poured the man another shot as he said it, mostly so he wouldn’t have to maintain eye contact. When he finally looked up again the man was watching him with a mostly steady gaze. He appeared to be calculating something, debating, but then the fight seemed to slump out of him and he leaned heavily against the bar. 

“Sure.” His voice sounded hollow and empty and whatever lust Cas had felt for the man as he walked through the door slipped away at that tone. This man did not need a quick fuck, what he needed was a good long hug. Possibly also a friend. 

“Cool.” Cas answered, trying to sound casual. He absently wiped at the already spotless bar. 

“We close in half an hour, will you wait until then?”

The man nodded, resigned, and Cas could have kicked himself. Of course he would wait, it’s not like he had anywhere else to go. 

Slowly, the people out on the floor filtered home and Cas waved them out. Crowley brought over the few empty glasses from the tables and Cas smiled in thanks before taking them to the back to load the dishwasher. 

He came back to the bar just as Crowley was explaining to the man that they were closed for the night. 

“He’s my boyfriend,” Castiel interjected quickly, hoping the swaying dude wouldn’t be forced to leave. Crowley grunted, seeming to accept his explanation. 

“Don’t forget to lock up.”

Castiel nodded at his retreating back and scanned the empty bar. Cleanup wouldn’t be too bad. He just had to put the chairs up and sweep.

“M’not your boyfriend,” the man said sluggishly once they were alone. Castiel tried to think back at how many shots he had given him but found he couldn’t remember them all. 

Cas tipped the first chair onto it’s table. “I know, but he wouldn’t have let you hang around unless you had some sort of reason to wait for me.”

Castiel finished with the tables and chairs, hyperaware of the eyes on him. He picked up a well worn broom and started sweeping. 

“Why’re you helping me?” The man asked as Castiel swept the small pile into the dustbin. 

“Because you need it. And because I’m nice.” _And possibly also stupid._ Cas added in his mind. Looking at the man though, Castiel couldn’t imagine a single sinister thing about him. He looked tired, worn down and abused; like he had had his fair share of misery in life. Besides. He couldn’t be more than what, 19? 20? 

Belatedly Cas realized he probably should have asked for some ID before he gave him a drink. 

The man didn’t say anything, just pulled out his wallet and dropped a couple crumpled bills on the bar. Cas started to shake his head but the instant glare the man gave him told him he would take any monetary help as very unwelcome charity. 

Cas tucked the bills into the register and locked it back up. He took a last quick look around before putting on his jacket and turning off the lights. 

The man stumbled off the barstool and followed Cas outside. The night air was so cold that it hurt to inhale and Cas immediately knew he made the right choice offering the dude a place to stay. He would have died staying out here all night. He was shivering in his thin leather jacket as it was. 

Cas hurried to lock the doors and turned to face the man. 

“I’m just up the road. Sorry, we’ll have to walk.”

The man nodded and followed Cas, who just then realized he hadn’t asked for a name, nor had he given his own. He felt stupid, and it was probably awkward to ask about it now that they were at his front door, but better late than never right?

“I’m Castiel by the way,” he said, opening his front door and stepping into the instant wave of warm air.

“Dean,” the man said, stepping in after him. Cas followed his gaze as he took in the sparsely furnished home. It was pitifully small, Cas knew that, and the piles of books everywhere probably didn’t help the situation. He unzipped his coat, tossed it over a chair, and moved some books off the end of the sofa to make room.

“You can sleep here. Or you can take the bedroom if you want, it’s a little messy though,” Cas said, gesturing to the open door that led to his room. It was overflowing with books crammed on every imaginable surface. 

“The couch is fine,” Dean said slowly, removing his own jacket even though it looked like he didn’t want to. The walk here seemed to have sobered him up a little and he was much more tense now. 

Castiel turned his back to pour two mugs of tea and almost dropped them when he turned back around. Dean had removed his shirt and was standing there holding it. 

“So I guess I owe you sex now huh?” He asked clearly trying to sound cool and collected. 

Cas stood frozen, looking at him like he had just grown two heads. He couldn’t tear his eyes off the dark blooming bruises on Dean’s sides, a look which Dean probably interpreted as lust and which definitely didn’t help the situation. Cas placed the mugs down hard on the counter and pointedly turned around. Did Dean think he was letting him stay here in exchange for a sexual favour? The thought made bile rise up in his throat. There was clearly way more to unpack from this situation than ‘my dad kicked me out.’

“No Dean. I don’t do drunk sex,” Cas said after a heavy pause. He tried to keep his voice as calm as possible but there was no stopping the film of rage that bled through. What father would kick out a son in the middle of the night and in the dead of winter? How could he leave Dean feeling like he had no other option except to whore himself out to a stranger for a place to sleep? And the ease with which he did it made Cas certain this wasn’t the first time. 

“Please put your shirt back on Dean,” He said, suddenly sure that if he saw the bruises again he would go out and murder Dean’s father with his own bare hands, which overall wouldn’t be great for his future job prospects. 

After a few seconds Cas heard the rustling of fabric. He waited a moment longer before turning around and handing a very confused Dean a mug of tea. 

“I can’t pay you to sleep here dude,” Dean explained quietly. 

“I never expected you to,” Cas answered. 

Dean looked at him for a moment before a blush spread over his cheeks. “Sorry. That was- god what a night.” Dean set the mug down on the counter and scrubbed a hand roughly over his face. 

“Hey, no. That one was on me, I should have been more clear,” Cas said quickly. “We can figure this out in the morning but for now I think we should both get some sleep. Its really late.” Cas glanced at the time over the oven and saw that it was nearing 4am. 

Dean nodded numbly and Cas ducked into his room for a spare pillow and blanket. He handed them to Dean, who muttered a quiet thank you and walked over to the sofa. Cas took a few minutes to brush his teeth and relieve himself before falling back into bed and immediately falling asleep. 

By the time Cas woke up the next morning, Dean was gone. There wasn’t a single sign of him except for the cooled mug of tea which sat exactly where Dean had left it.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been nearly a month since that strange meeting with Dean, and honestly, Castiel’s life fell back into it’s normal rhythm fairly quickly. He went to work, slept like a log after busy shifts, barely made rent, and overall didn’t really have time for fantasies. Every once in a while, when he saw a flash of flannel or heavy boots, he remembered the mystery man with deep green eyes and wondered where he was and what he was up to, but normally his mind was too preoccupied with other things. 

That is until he saw him again. 

Cas was shifting his grocery bag to the other hand when a window across the street smashed and a guy flew backwards out of it, landing hard on his ass. A huge…man? jumped after him, pinning him down, but the guy calmly pulled out a gun and shot his attacker once, twice, three times in the chest. 

Cas watched this, frozen, and wondered how this could happen in broad daylight when suddenly, the large man with bullet holes in his chest exploded into a rather gross pile of black goop. 

The shooter scrambled to his feet, wiping his face clean and tucking the gun under his coat. He spared Cas the quickest of glances before running off into an alley. It was a brief look, but Cas would recognize those green eyes anywhere. 

Why was Dean here again? Why did he have a gun? And most importantly, what was that thing? Cas didn’t get a chance to ask any of his questions because in the next moment, the street was swarmed with police vehicles and curious shop owners.

Cas picked up the bag he had dropped and ducked his head, walking quickly towards his teeny home. 

He had just finished putting his groceries away when there was a weak knock. Cas set the last apple into his fruit bowl and opened the door a crack. 

It was Dean. 

He closed the door, undid the latch, and opened it wide. The man was swaying. He looked like someone had put him through a meat grinder. 

“Cas I-“ and that was as far as he got before he crumpled to the ground on Castiel’s front step. 

Cas stared down at him for a shocked moment before he realized he was standing over an actively bleeding person. Oh and the neighbours were also probably watching. 

Cas reached down and grabbed Dean under his armpits, intending to lift him and bring him inside, but damn the man was heavier than he looked. Cas ended up awkwardly dragging him inside, all the while hoping he wasn’t dead because he didn’t know the first thing about CPR. 

He managed to half carry half drag Dean into the bathroom. 

“Okay don’t go anywhere, I need to shut the front door,” Cas warned him. Yes, he was talking aloud to an unconscious person. Yes that was crazy. Yes he was nervous as fuck. 

Cas jogged to the door, then closed and locked it before running back into the bathroom. 

He flicked on the light and Dean stirred in the sudden brightness. He opened one eye and scrambled backwards as soon as he caught sight of Cas. His back bumped hard into the edge of the tub and he gasped in pain, curling forwards and thunking his forehead onto the cool tiles. 

“Easy Dean, it’s just me. Remember? Castiel. We met at Crowley’s bar a couple weeks ago,” Cas said, holding his hands in the air. He wasn’t scared of Dean, but the man was clearly jumpy and Cas knew he had a weapon. He kneeled down, watching Dean nod. 

“Sorry dude. I’ll get out of your hair,” Dean said weakly, pushing himself up to a sitting position. 

“Yeah like hell you are. You’re hurt, I’m calling an ambulance,” Cas said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice as he reached into his pocket for his phone. 

“NO,” Dean said firmly, catching his wrist in his hand. Dean’s fingers were ice cold and covered in a mix of blood and black goo. 

“Dean,” Cas said, his voice breaking. How could he explain to this man that he was completely unequipped to deal with any injuries worse than a paper cut?

“I swear I’m fine Cas. I just need a minute,” Dean said through gritted teeth. 

Cas watched him gasp for breath. His chest seemed to be moving unevenly, and Cas didn’t really know what to do with that information. He felt like he was in a war zone; Dean was giving off wave after wave of adrenaline and anxiety. 

_Okay pull yourself together Cas. What would Katniss do?_

Castiel internally laughed at himself. Of course in a moment of panic all he would think of was his most recent read. 

_Katniss would clean him up and get a good look at the damage, idiot._

Cas looked down at Dean, who was hunched over in his layers. There were tears in his clothes and Cas was just noticing that some of those tears were soaked in blood. He tried to calm his roiling stomach. 

“Dean i swear I’m not a creep, but I think we need to take your shirt off and get you cleaned up a little. Where does it hurt?”

Dean gave him an incredulous look but started removing his jacket. “My feelings Cas. I hurt my feelings.”

Cas bit his lip and tried not to laugh, now somehow didn’t seem like an appropriate time. He helped Dean shrug off the jacket, then tugged at his open flannel. 

Dean awkwardly looked away and Cas was suddenly reminded of the horrible misunderstanding of their first night. He tried to hide his blush as he helped Dean pull off his black t-shirt. This was nothing like that. He was hurt and needed help, Cas told himself firmly. 

Dean leaned back on his elbows, giving Cas easy access. His chest didn’t look too bad, mostly just bruised. Cas pressed a hand on either side and moved a palm width downward each time Dean inhaled. Nothing crunched under his hands, which he took as a good sign. 

Dean shifted back against the tub and dropped his hands in his lap, and that’s when Cas saw it. On Dean’s right forearm, there were two deep slash marks, both bleeding profusely, both filled with glass. He pressed the inside of his elbow to his mouth to try and cover his heave, but Dean noticed it anyways. 

“Come on dude, it’s not even that bad,” he said, half joking. Cas braved another look at the wound and had to disagree. It did actually look that bad. 

“Do you have any stitching supplies?” Dean asked innocently. 

“Stit- no! I do not have stitching supplies. We are going to a hospital,” Cas said firmly, reaching for his phone again. 

“If you call I’m outta here,” Dean threatened. Cas looked at him and saw that he was serious. There was a set to his jaw that told Cas he would not be getting his way this time. 

“Dean,” he reasoned calmly. “I don’t have a single clue how to patch you up right now. Please listen to me, you need professional help.”

Dean shook his head and continued as if he hadn’t heard Cas at all. “I’ll walk you through it man, its not that hard.” He grabbed the largest piece of glass and tugged it out of the wound. A small spray of blood followed it. 

“We gotta disinfect it first,” Dean said, much too calmly for someone who was currently digging glass out of his own arm. 

“With what?” Cas asked, trying to keep his breakfast down.

“I don’t know. Alcohol?” Dean answered sassily, as if that should have been the most obvious thing in the world.

“Uh. I don’t have any alcohol here,” Cas admitted sheepishly. 

“You’re a bartender and you don’t have alcohol?” Dean asked deadpanned. 

Cas shrugged helplessly. 

“I guess I could just shower then?” Dean suggested. He sounded uncertain, which didn’t exactly put Cas at ease. 

“Yeah of course. I could help you. Unless that’s weird. It is weird isn’t it… Towels are under the sink. Do you think you’ll be okay on your own?” Cas rambled.

“Uh, I hit my head pretty hard. Not sure how standing is going to work out,” Dean admitted. Cas tried not to let on that he had picked up on Dean’s worried tone. 

“Oh. Sure. Here I got it,” Cas said quickly, leaning over Dean to turn on the shower, then reached down and helped Dean undo his belt buckle. He turned away as Dean peeled off his jeans. The gun clattered to the ground behind him and Dean lifted it easily and set it on the counter. Cas took a subconscious step away from the loaded weapon. 

Dean laughed, “It’s not gonna go off on it’s own you know..” 

Cas could only manage a tight lipped smile because no, he didn’t know. He helped Dean into a shaky standing position and once he stopped swaying, Dean looked at him strangely. 

“You’re gonna walk into the shower fully clothed?”

Cas looked down and realized he was indeed wearing clothes. He guided Dean to the counter and leaned him against it as he quickly stripped down to his boxers. 

It was awkward, and there was a lot of accidental pressing on injuries involved, but both men eventually made it into the shower. The water running down the drain contained long strings of black goop and came away a rusted brown colour. Dean bit his lip and shoved his wounded arm under the spray. Bits of glass made muted thunking sounds as they were washed out. 

Cas mostly held Dean up as he rinsed off his body, but it was a serious task because Dean was more unsteady on his feet than he looked. He must have hit his head harder than he had let on. 

Dean eventually reached out and shut off the water. Cas grabbed the towel he had set out and wrapped it around Dean. He quickly dried himself off with a second towel and guided Dean to sit on the closed toilet while he ducked into his room. He pulled off his wet boxers, then tugged on a dry pair, as well as some clean jeans and a tshirt. After a moment of hesitation, he also grabbed a clean set of clothes for Dean. The man might refuse but at least he could offer. 

Cas set the clean clothes on the counter beside Dean, who was prodding at his once again bleeding arm. 

“Got a needle and thread?” Dean asked once he noticed Cas watching him. 

“Yeah,” Cas answered slowly. He wanted to insist again that they should go to a hospital but the gun on the counter made him nervous. 

“Will you boil them?” Dean asked politely. Cas looked down at his mostly naked frame. He looked exhausted, sitting there on the toilet with a wet towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Of course,” Cas answered. He walked out of the bathroom quickly before he could say something stupid, like _come live with me and forget your jerk of a father. I’ll protect you._

He rummaged around in a closet and came out triumphant with a regular sewing needle and some navy blue thread that he had used to patch up some jeans years ago. He cut off a length he hoped was long enough, threaded it through the needle, then dropped both into a small pot of water on the stove. 

It took a couple of minutes to come to a boil, and Cas let the mixture bubble for a minute longer just for good measure. He was not stalling. Nope. Definitely not putting off having to go into the bathroom and care for that bleeding stubborn gorgeous creature in there. 

Cas didn’t know if he was supposed to pull the needle out of the water, or if touching it would contaminate it again, so he ended up bringing the whole pot back into the bathroom with him. Dean had put on the sweatpants he had left him and was once again sitting on the closed toilet, arm outstretched onto the counter. His head was resting against the corner of the granite, eyes closed. 

“Hey. I don’t think you’re supposed to sleep after a head injury,” Cas said in greeting. Dean’s eyes snapped open and he lifted his head, nodding. 

“You can dump some of the water off.” 

Cas tipped the pot over the sink and left just a tiny bit of the rapidly cooling water in with the threaded needle. Dean reached in and pulled it out. 

“Wow you tied it already. See? You’re a natural.”

Cas managed a small smile despite his nerves. He reached out to help but it didn’t seem like Dean required anything of him. Dean bit his bottom lip and hooked both sides of the skin through the needle, pulling the thread neatly through. 

Cas sat down weakly. Dean didn’t look like he was in pain, but it had to be an act. Stitching yourself back up could not have been comfortable. Cas cursed himself for not having anything strong to drink in the apartment. Dean probably could have used a stiff drink right about now. 

“What was that thing?” Cas asked, trying to make some conversation to distract Dean from the needle he was expertly plunging into his own skin. 

“It was a monster,” Dean answered plainly. 

Cas laughed. A real loud, proper belly laugh, but Dean didn’t join in so he awkwardly trailed off. 

“I uh, I hunt those things for a living. Well, not a living. I don’t get paid. But it keeps people safe,” Dean explained. He had finished stitching one of the cuts and threaded the needle back through the string, tying it off. He bent down and bit the string off, then held the end in his teeth as he made another knot to start on the second cut. 

Cas squinted at him. This had to be some kind of prank, but he’d bite. “You hunt alone?”

“No not usually. My dad and brother were here but dad didn’t believe me when I said there was one left. He said if I’m so sure I should stay behind and catch it. He and Sammy are probably halfway to who knows where by now. He’ll call me in a couple days and let me know where to find them. I think.”

Cas bit his tongue, trying to reign in his anger. From this angle Dean looked a lot smaller and younger. A lot more vulnerable. The question slipped out before he even had a chance to consider if he wanted to know the answer. 

“How old are you anyways?”

Dean shot him an acidic look. “Eighteen,” he said after a beat, but it was long enough for Cas to know he was lying. _So he’s even younger._ Fuck this kid wasn’t even an adult yet and so far Cas had seen him drink like he’d been drinking an entire lifetime, fire a gun with incredible ease, fight off a..a monster, and get abandoned _twice_ by his so called father. 

Dean tied off the last stitch and bit the thread free. He tossed the needle and the rest of the bloody thread into the bin and leaned heavily against the back of the toilet. Cas watched him, noting bitterly the layers of fresh and yellowing bruises over his exposed chest. Cas didn’t know whether they were really caused by a monster, or if Dean’s dad was the real monster, but he knew for a fact that no kid should be that beat up. 

“Thank you Castiel,” Dean said suddenly, breaking Cas out of his thoughts. 

“I really should get going.” He got up and picked up his discarded clothes, slipping on his dirty shirt. He shrugged on his coat and tucked the gun into it’s pocket before Cas could protest. 

“Will I see you again?” Cas asked, following him out of the bathroom in a daze. 

Dean leaned against the doorway, looking back at him. “Cas I pulled out and shot a gun in the middle of the day on a busy road. The police are probably already looking for me.” 

Castiel might have imagined it, but Dean looked truly sorry, like maybe he wouldn’t have minded seeing Cas again, on another day, in another world. 

“You can keep the sweatpants Dean,” Cas said after a beat. Dean looked down as if he was surprised he was wearing them, then looked back at Cas with a smile Cas would carry for years. 

Dean opened his hand in a goodbye and slipped out the door, shutting it firmly behind him. By the time Cas opened it and looked down his street, Dean was already gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set the night before Dean was dragged into hell. It’s not cannon compliant, not even if you squint, but bear with me. Also, minimally edited but what are you gonna do about it? (I’m kidding, please point out my mistakes <3)

The music thumped its way straight into Castiel’s chest, the lights pulsed and throbbed, and despite the crush of people in the strip club, he felt that somehow everyone was staring right at him. Like everyone knew how out of place he was. 

He hadn’t felt this awkward since his first middle school dance. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and walk out of the club, but he did not just drive two hours to meet up with Gabriel only to chicken out at the last second. Besides, it was his friend’s birthday, and he owed it to Gabriel to at least say hi. 

It took a horribly long minute to spot Gabriel, draped as he was in women. Also, the lighting in the club wasn’t great. Also people kept bumping into him. He also had to dodge two strippers on his hunt for his friend. 

“Hello Gabriel,” Castiel said, leaning in close to be heard over the low throb of the music. 

“CASTIEL! YOU MADE IT,” Gabriel shouted back. He stood abruptly from his chair, knocking back a stripper in scraps of red leather, and enveloped Cas in a crushing hug. 

“Happy birthday,” Cas said with a wide smile, hugging his friend back. 

“Balthy is around here somewhere,” Gabriel said much too close to his ear. His words slurred together just enough to hint at the couple of drinks he had already downed. 

“Have a seat!” Gabriel said loudly, tugging him down into the chair beside his. The girls were back on him immediately, stroking manicured nails up his arms and down his chest. 

Castiel coughed awkwardly and turned his attention to the stage they were sitting in front of. Three poles connected the ceiling to the stage floor and at each pole was a woman impressively defying gravity. The one closest to where they were sitting was wearing barely more than a very strappy pair of high heels. 

She caught Cas watching and danced her way over, turning to wriggle her round behind uncomfortably close to Castiel’s face. Gabriel barked out a laugh and tucked a folded bill into the leg of her panties. 

Castiel watched the exchange, trying not to look as green as he felt. He was a bartender for god’s sake, he shouldn’t be this uncomfortable in an atmosphere that was so similar to the one he was used to back at work. Of course there were some stark differences. Mainly the strippers. Cas kept his hands folded tightly in his lap in case he accidentally brushed against someone who didn’t want to be touched. He really had no idea how the whole consent thing worked in a strip club. 

In the darkness across the well lit stage, Cas could have sworn he saw the flash of a silhouette that looked eerily like Dean, but it was impossible. He hadn’t seen the man in almost nine years. What are the odds that he would run into him here of all places. 

“So what have you been up to?” Gabriel asked, pulling him from his thoughts. Cas locked eyes on Gabriel, glad to have somewhere safe to look. Gabriel snapped his fingers and a floater brought Cas a chilled beer. 

“Work mostly.”

“Still grinding away at that little joint of yours?”

“I like it there,” Cas shrugged. Not much had changed in the months since he had last seen his friend. He saved up and moved into a slightly larger house in a slightly nicer part of town, but other than that Castiel hadn’t changed a bit. 

“You?” Cas asked after a beat.

“Living the dream pal. Single and cruising. Still teaching PE at that damned high school.”

Castiel smirked, wondering what Gabriel’s students would think if they ever found out what their teacher did on the weekends. The red leather woman whispered something in Gabriel’s ear and his eyes gleamed, which never meant anything good. Gabriel leaned forwards. 

“Candy here wants to steal me away for a little while. You don’t mind do you?” 

Castiel immediately shook his head even though he wanted to beg Gabriel not to ditch him in a place like this. Gabriel smiled and stood. Candy plastered herself to his side and started to tug him away but Gabriel snapped his fingers and pointed to Cas before he got pulled into the throng of people.

Castiel had an entire second to himself to be confused before a very blonde woman dressed in a white wispy thing appeared in front of him. She sinuously lowered herself right onto Castiel’s lap and through his jeans, he could feel the slow undulation of her hips. 

“Hi baby, My name is Chastity, what’s yours?” She asked in a breathy sweet voice, pressing her breasts to his chest and threading her fingers into his hair. 

Castiel stuttered. He wanted to say something clever. Heck, he wanted to say anything at all, but Chastity was grinding down on him and he was already embarrassingly hard and her cleavage was inches away from his face and he didn’t know where to look. The ceiling seemed like a good option, but then so did the far wall. 

“Hey sweetheart. Thanks for keeping my boyfriend company but I’ll take it from here,” said a raspy voice to Castiel’s left. He turned and relief instantly flooded over him. _Dean._ Alive and well. He never thought he would see the man again. 

Chastity smiled brilliantly and slid lightly off of Cas. Dean reached out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and Castiel noticed that he left a folded bill behind when he removed his hand. 

Dean surprised Cas into complete silence when he easily swung a leg over, taking Chastity’s place, although Cas noticed he kept most of his weight on his own knees and his crotch a respectful distance away. 

“You looked like you were about to crawl out of your skin Cas.”

“Yeah,” Cas managed to choke out. He cleared his throat. “This is not really my scene.”

“Well what are you doing here then?” Dean asked, bringing his forearms to rest on Castiel’s shoulders. The position was by no means uncomfortable, but Cas was especially grateful because everyone else skirted around them now, not wanting to interrupt. 

“It’s a friend’s birthday but I think he’s…occupied.”

Dean smirked down at him and Cas gave himself a moment to really look at the man in his lap. It had been years since he had last seen Dean, and the guy had really filled out. His biceps seemed to want to burst out of his tight black t-shirt and there was an easy confidence about Dean that wasn’t there years ago. 

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” Cas said honestly. His hands shifted to hold Dean’s hips and Dean let it happen. 

“What, can’t a dying man have one last night out?” Dean asked. The joking lilt to his tone did nothing to calm Cas’s instantly racing heart. 

“You’re dying? Dean! Go to a hospital!”

“What’s up with you and hospitals? I’m not gonna croak right now Cas. It’ll happen tomorrow, probably around midnight.”

Cas quirked an eyebrow at how precise Dean was being and wondered vaguely if this was some elaborate joke. Maybe another one of his monster stories. 

“Will a vampire come and eat you? Is it all scheduled out?” Cas asked, trying to join in on the teasing. 

“Nope,” Dean answered, popping the end of the word. “I’m getting dragged to Hell.” Dean said it like he was informing Cas of a dentist appointment he had to go to; something mildly unpleasant but also unavoidable. 

“Uh, the one in Michigan or in California?”

Dean gave him an unimpressed look but also chose not to elaborate, so Cas pressed on. 

“Is this something to do with monster hunting?”

Dean let out a laugh but it came out all wrong, which made Cas’s worry flare up even more because _was he serious?_

“Cas,” Dean sighed, sounding exasperated. “I came here to have a good time, not to get grilled.” Dean’s eyes suddenly locked on something behind Cas and he leaned closer. 

“You’ve got someone watching from behind. Kinda blonde. Kinda tall. Very low v-neck and a blazer. Friend or foe?” Dean asked. 

Castiel turned his head to follow Dean’s gaze and caught sight of Bathazar, who was smiling widely and holding a blue drink with an umbrella in it. He walked over once he saw Cas looking. 

“Heyyy it’s been a while,” Bathazar said, clapping Cas on the shoulder. Dean didn’t move, and Cas thought his perch now seemed oddly protective. 

“Yes it has,” Castiel agreed, letting his hands drift up to Dean’s lower back.

“I’ll catch you later, you look…busy at the moment,” Bathazar said, melting back into the crowd with a wink. Once he was out of sight Dean seemed to relax against him again. 

“Who was that?”

“Balthazar. An old friend. Our parents grew up together. I’ve known him since before we could walk,” Cas explained. Dean seemed to accept this and in the lull, Cas opened his mouth to ask something of his own. 

He had a million and one questions. He wanted to know where Dean has been these last eight and a bit years. He wanted to know more about Dean’s job, and what the hell he meant by saying he was going to die tomorrow, but all thoughts were wiped from his mind because Dean leaned forwards and brushed his lips against Castiel’s cheek so gently it made him shiver.

“Is this alright?” Dean whispered by his ear. Castiel nodded and Dean shifted closer, pressing their hips and chests together. Castiel shut his eyes and guided them slowly to lean back against the large cushy chair. He squeezed at Dean’s hips, revelling in the solid weight of him on his lap. He had only met the man a few times, and those times were confusing and far between, but Cas already knew he had never felt anything as good as Dean’s weight pressing into him. 

Dean kissed his cheek again, then a line down his jaw, then the corner of his mouth, and finally pressed their lips together. Cas wanted to let Dean lead, to let the kiss linger, slow and sweet, but he was hungry for it. He had been hungry for it since that first night at the bar. He swiped his tongue over Dean’s bottom lip and the man let out a soft moan and Cas was _gone._ He licked into Dean’s mouth like he owned the place, and Dean let him. He was very vocal with his encouragement so Cas kept going, pressing a hand into Dean's back and tangling the other in his hair to drag him closer. 

From off to the side, someone cleared their throat loudly, making the men hazily pull away and turn to see who it was. 

The tall shaggy haired guy standing there didn’t register to Cas as anyone he knew, but Dean clearly recognized him because he scowled. 

“Kinda in the middle of something Sammy.” Dean tipped his forehead against Cas’s as if their wet red lips weren’t enough of a hint. 

“Seriously Dean? We have just over 24 hours to figure this out and you run away to a strip club?” The guy sounded annoyed and the pieces shifted closer together for Cas. Sammy. So this was the famed younger brother. 

Dean let out a deep sigh, like he couldn’t believe Sam was asking this of him, but Cas caught the shift in his demeanour. He felt the slight tremor in his fingers that hadn’t been there before. Whatever Sam wanted him to do, something was seriously wrong. 

“Give me a minute Sammy, I’ll meet you in the car,” Dean said to his brother, sounding defeated. 

Dean pulled back from Cas, instantly making him feel cold despite the sweaty heat of the club. Dean looked down at him, almost apologetically. Something in his eyes made him look like a child again, stranded and alone in the middle of a battlefield. He looked even more lost than he had eight years ago when he first stumbled into Castiel’s bar, and the look broke something in Cas’s chest. 

He reached out and threaded his fingers through Dean’s. Only once he had his hands clasped in his own did Castiel notice quite how hard Dean was shaking. _Could this Hell thing be real?_

“I gotta go Cas,” Dean said, sliding easy off of Cas’s lap and standing. Cas stood too, surprised to find that Dean had grown taller than him. He looked hard at the exhausted man in front of him and wondered who was there to hold him at night; to protect him when things got tough. 

It was a wild impulse, and Cas didn’t even stop to think about it before he gave into it. He pulled on Dean’s hand, tugging him straight back against his chest like they had been bungee corded together. “Don’t go.” Cas whispered into his hair.

Dean let himself be held long enough for Cas to map out the press of every inch of him before he pulled away. 

“That ain’t how this story goes Cas,” He locked eyes with Castiel one final time before turning and disappearing into the crowd of undulating bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclaimer: idk what I’m doing. I didn’t intend to write more than one chapter, but some of you have asked for more in the comments and I’m a complete sucker for wish fulfilment. That being said, I honestly have no idea if I will be writing more, no idea where I would go with this if I were to continue, and also no idea if you as readers want more of this story. Soooooo Prompts? Ideas for meeting situations? Was there a line in here that you liked? Whatever it is I’m all ears. 
> 
> P.S. I hope nobody felt objectified by this. You are all magnificent creatures and I hope you’re all aware of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas meets Dean immediately after he crawls out of his grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by a suggestion from Why_do_you_want_to_know and seconded by TwistedAzara. I hope you like it!

Cas had no idea why he let Charlie drag him into the middle of the woods. She said something about autumn colours and his blue eyes and gave him that puppy dog look and next thing he knew, he had agreed to meet her for a photo shoot. Castiel felt gloriously silly, and also mildly annoyed. He was spending his day off prancing around in the woods instead of getting some cooking done, but Charlie made sure the whole experience was as painless as possible. 

Actually, she never even asked him to pose at all, mostly just floated around him as they walked through the early fall forest and snapped random shots. The hour was up before Cas even noticed, and it all felt like nothing more than a walk with a friend. 

“Thanks for doing this,” Charlie said honestly once they had reached the parking lot again. 

“Yeah no problem. It was nice catching up,” Castiel responded with a smile. He opened Charlie’s door for her and she rolled down the window before letting him shut it. 

“Are you heading home? I can’t wait to get back and edit.”

Cas took a deep breath of the fresh forest air. “Soon. I think I want to walk around a little longer, I’ve kind of been cooped up at work this past week.” 

Charlie smiled sweetly at him and promised to send some photos as soon as she finished editing. Cas waved her off, now honestly curious about what shots she could have possibly gotten while they were walking. He checked to make sure his phone and keys were still in his jacket and took off for the forest once more. 

Maybe it was childish, but there was nobody around to blame him, so Castiel took great care to step on as many crunching leaves as possible. He was making so much noise that he didn’t even notice the big blur of a man coming towards him until he was tackled to the ground. 

_Oh great,_ Castiel thought as they tumbled around on the forest floor. _I always knew I’d get murdered in the woods some day._

After scrambling and fighting for dominance, Castiel found himself pinned to the ground, a forearm pressed tight to his throat and his arms somehow twisted underneath him. He looked up at his attacker, fully prepared to beg for his life, when he saw startlingly familiar eyes looking down at him. 

“Dean?” Castiel asked, incredulous. Dean was filthy. He looked like he had just crawled out of a grave or something. 

“Cas?” Dean asked after a beat. He slowly shifted off of him and Cas took a deep breath he didn’t realize he needed. 

“Where the fuck am I?” Dean asked slowly, eyeing Cas suspiciously as if he was the one who just got jumped. 

“Um. Chautauqua park. You know, near the garden centre?” Cas answered in a scratchy voice. Apparently someone leaning on your throat isn’t great for public speaking skills. 

Dean sat heavily on the muddy forest floor and held his head in his hands. 

“Sorry Cas, I’m gonna need a little more than that.”

“Pontiac, Illinois. About a half hour drive from my place. Dean, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in…four months and suddenly I bump into you in a random forest? Have you been following me?” Cas asked in a rush, only now starting to worry about the fact that he knew next to _nothing_ about the man sitting in front of him, and he kept running into him in the strangest situations. 

When Dean didn’t immediately answer, Castiel shuffled closer and saw that Dean was actually struggling to breathe. His hands were fisted tight in his hair and he was rocking back and forth. 

“Dean,” Castiel tried again, his concern growing. He placed a hand gently on Dean’s shoulders, and Dean looked up at him with glazed eyes. 

“This can’t be happening. It’s not real,” He said in a small lost voice. 

Cas didn’t know what to do, he had never seen an adult break down like that. The closest he had ever gotten was seeing those poor caged chimps at the zoo that did nothing but teeter in a ball all day. 

He went with his instincts, unbacked as they may be, and wrapped Dean up in a tight hug right there on the forest floor. It must have been what Dean needed because he immediately let go of his hair and grabbed two fistfuls of Castiel’s jacket. 

“I promise you I’m real Dean. I’m right here and I’m just as real as you are.” 

It took a long while for Dean to stop shaking and to slowly peel himself away from Cas. He looked up at him with huge embarrassed eyes. 

“Well shit.” Dean said shortly. He huffed out a broken laugh and roughly wiped the wetness out of his eyes. 

“Do you mind telling me what’s going on?” Cas asked gently. He had no idea what to expect with this guy anymore. Did his dad kick him out? Were there more monster attacks? Did it suddenly start raining evil unicorns?

Dean picked up a dry leaf off the ground and crunched it in his fist. “I went to Hell and it wasn’t a walk in the park like I thought it would be.”

Castiel watched him, fully waiting for the punch line, but it never came. Dean was serious. 

“Okay, I think we need to sit down and talk properly about this whole ‘monsters and Hell deal,’ because I honestly thought they were metaphors.”

Dean just watched Cas evenly. His eyes darted between the trees like the thought something might pop out and snatch them. 

“Would you be comfortable coming back to my place? You can shower and have a cup of tea and I’ll make something to eat and we can calm down and figure this out.”

Dean nodded slowly and stood up like an old beaten man. Knowing his track record, Cas wondered vaguely how many injuries he currently had. Dean followed him to his car and shut the door after a long moment of hesitation. He glanced at the seatbelt but didn’t put in on, and Cas didn’t force him. The man looked like he was about to jump out of his skin as it was, he probably didn’t need to feel more chained down. 

Dean was eerily quiet the whole ride home and Cas was hesitant to disturb him because he looked like he was deep in thought, like he needed to sort himself out. Halfway there, Dean suddenly reached out and grabbed the hand Cas had left resting between their seats. He squeezed tight and Castiel squeezed back. Whatever Dean had been through, he clearly needed some reassurance that he was now safe, and Cas was completely willing to provide it for him in whatever way he could. 

Cas parked in his driveway and swung open his front door with a tiny bit of pride. His new home was much more spacious, and he actually had room for bookshelves along the walls, so the place seemed much less cluttered. 

“Home sweet home,” Cas said with a wide smile, shutting the door behind them. Dean jumped at the sound of the firm click and Cas felt his heart crack a little. Wherever Dean had been through these past few months, it was clearly traumatizing. 

“So, you can shower if you want. I’ll make us something to eat.” 

“Cas,” Dean started, sounding broken. It didn’t seem like he had anything to say though. He only reached out a hand and cupped Castiel’s cheek. His touch was so feather light that It seemed he thought Cas would evaporate upon contact. Cas pressed his own hand over Dean’s just to reassure him that they were both solid. 

“Go,” He said quietly. "If you leave your clothes outside the door I’ll wash them.”

Dean visibly swallowed before he entered the bathroom Cas pointed to. A minute later, he opened the door a crack and set down a crumpled ball of clothing. The shower turned on. 

Cas picked up the filthy clothes and stuck them straight into the washing machine on a speed cycle. He shucked off his own jacket and hung it by the door, then turned to the kitchen. His original plan was to make roasted potatoes and some braised chicken for lunch, but that would take at least an hour and Dean looked gaunt and hungry. He pulled a box of Kraft dinner from a cupboard and set the water to boil. 

Castiel had just dumped the pasta into the bubbling water when the washer beeped, so he switched the clothes to dry. Dean was still in the shower, probably scrubbing at the layers of sweat and grime and who knows what else. 

Castiel had so many questions for him. He felt stupid, like there might really be an entire world he knew nothing about, but at the same time he felt silly for even entertaining the thought. When the pasta was cooked through he strained off the extra water and mixed in a spoonful of butter and the cheese powder. He split the pot into two bowls and stuck forks in them, then leaned uncertainly against the counter to wait. 

The shower water shut off at the same time as the dryer beeped, so Cas gathered up the warm clothes and knocked on the bathroom door. 

“Dean? Your clothes are clean. Can I open the door and give them to you?”

There was no answer, so Cas worriedly opened the door a tiny crack, hoping Dean wouldn’t freak out over the invasion of privacy. Dean was leaning against the counter, glaring at his own reflection in the mirror, towel wrapped around his waist. Cas wanted to ask what was wrong when he caught sight of the hundreds of scars criss crossing Dean’s back. There were so many silvery marks that the skin was twisted with them. 

“Dean,” Cas gasped out, reaching, transfixed, for one of the few patches of smooth freckled skin that was left. His thumb brushed against the skin and Dean flinched away, eyes wide. 

Cas pulled his hand back and held onto the warm clothes for dear life.

“Oh. Thank you,” Dean said, taking the ball of clothes that Cas held out to him. He seemed to be trying to keep calm but Cas became acutely aware of how he was blocking the door and how nervous Dean seemed because of it. 

He coughed once, but couldn’t seem to come up with a good explanation as to why he had randomly touched the guy, so he quickly stepped out of the bathroom, muttering something about how the food was ready. 

Castiel leaned heavily against the counter, thoughts flying. What could have cut Dean up so badly? Was it his father? Cas wanted to kick himself. He knew something was wrong the first time he saw the bruises all over Dean, but he never thought it would ever get this bad.

A moment later Dean stepped out of the steamy bathroom, fully dressed and looking like an entirely different man. Except for the haunted look in his eyes. That couldn’t be fixed by a shower. 

Cas handed Dean one of the bowls and he looked down at it as if he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Cas took a slow bite of his own pasta, watching him. Dean watched Cas swallow, and then he was wolfing it down, eating so quickly it was like he hadn’t touched food in years. 

“What’s going on Dean?” Cas asked slowly once they had both finished. He took the empty bowls and filled them with water in the sink. Dean followed his movements, almost as if he didn’t want to be too far away from Cas. 

“I,” Dean trailed off. “I really don’t wanna involve you in this crap Cas.”

Castiel scoffed at that. “I’m kind of already involved. You’re _here_ aren’t you?”

Dean gave him an even look. “Theres no going back once I tell you. Please believe me when I say there are things out there you’d rather not know about.”

“Why don’t you try me?” Cas asked with a coyness he would come to regret in the next few minutes. So Dean did. Cas listened raptly as he explained the existence of werewolves, vampires, demons, monsters so twisted and horrible you wouldn’t believe they existed unless you saw them. He explained how his mother was killed, how he was raised to hunt, how his brother died. He told Cas about his demon deal he made to get him back, and even managed to describe the hell hound that dragged him down before his voice cracked and stopped. 

Cas opened his mouth to say something but found he had no words, so instead he took Dean by the elbow and led him to the sofa, sitting a respectful distance away. 

Cas thought back to every movie he had ever seen that portrayed it’s own version of hell; fire and brimstone, luxurious sin at every corner. Somehow he didn’t think the real thing was anything like that, and he couldn’t stop himself from asking. 

“What exactly happened in Hell?” As soon as the words were out, he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know the answer.

The change in Dean was immediate. He seemed to fold in on himself, like the world was this huge heavy weight and it was crushing him down. 

Castiel tugged at Dean’s shoulders, intending to pull the man into another hug, but Dean let his whole body drop onto the couch in a limp motion like he had entirely given up. His head fell onto Castiel’s thigh and the closeness was not as reassuring as it should have been. Actually it made a huge pit yawn wide open in Cas’s chest. He wanted to pull Dean inside it and shield him from the rest of the world forever. Instead he ran his fingers in what he hoped was a soothing motion through Dean’s still damp hair.

Dean didn’t answer for a long time, and when he did his voice sounded far off. 

“I tortured people Cas. For thirty years I was strung up on a rack, torn to shreds only to be put back together again. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I took the deal. I picked up a hammer and turned on the next bastard in line, and I didn’t stop swinging for a whole decade.”

Castiel both felt and heard the hitch in Dean’s breathing. 

“How am I gonna live with myself Cas?” Dean asked, his words breaking over one another. Castiel found his throat was thick, and he didn’t really have a good answer for him. Dean didn’t seem to be expecting one though, because he let the silence stretch on. 

Eventually, his breathing slowed and evened out, and he became a limp pile of muscle on Castiel’s thigh. He continued to thread his fingers through Dean’s hair, almost absentmindedly. 

It was a lot to take in. How could he have lived his whole life not knowing monsters were real? It was a bitter realization, but he knew the instant he asked himself the question that it was because people like Dean were good at their jobs. 

His fingers tightened momentarily on Dean’s head. Who protects the protectors? Who picks them up when they break down? Castiel almost doesn’t dare think what might have happened to Dean if he hadn’t been in that forest. Who would have offered him a safe place to rest while he figured out where he was, shook off his disorientation?

Castiel sat on the couch, content to just hold Dean and watch him breathe as the sun slipped across the sky. He would do anything to pause this moment and keep Dean with him, safely draped over his legs. 

His wild hope must have jinxed the lull though, because in the next moment, Dean jerked awake and flung himself up so fast that he knocked Cas back against the couch. Dean’s eyes flitted around the room, looking for threats. His chest rose and fell erratically and his muscles were tightly wound, ready for a fight.

He relaxed minutely upon seeing Cas, but tensed once more when he saw how low in the sky the sun was. 

“Crap,” Dean muttered, dragging a hand through his hair and making it stick in all directions. 

“I have to find Sammy,” He said, scanning the room quickly before seeming to realize he had brought nothing with him. 

Cas followed him to the door, heart squeezing as he watched Dean pull on his muddy boots. 

“Dean,” Castiel said, embarrassingly aware of the raw anguish in his voice. “I’m worried about you. You can’t just keep popping into my life like this, unannounced, sometimes bleeding. I can’t-“

“I won’t,” Dean interrupted him darkly. “If that’s how you feel then I won’t show up anymore. Sorry for disturbing you.” 

Before Cas had a chance to protest, Dean had shut the door firmly behind him. 

Cas didn’t even have a chance to explain himself. He didn’t want Dean to leave, what he wanted was for him to _stay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is me begging for more meeting prompts. To be fair, I was coerced into continuing this by some of you, so it's only fair that you keep pushing me along with ideas


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Sam takes a tumble into Hell with Lucifer, Dean goes on a bit of a tailspin. Instead of heading to Lisa's, he ends up with Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold. The randomness is complete. The prompt where Dean goes to see Cas instead of Lisa comes from the lovely runnerfiveisacat and was supported by chthonic21. I’m not sure if this is what you were looking for but I hope you like it!

Cas locked up the bar and climbed into his car, exhausted and more than ready for a shower, a cup of tea, and his bed, preferably in that order. The bar had been unusually busy, even for a warm summer night. He drove the short distance home and parked before heading inside and locking the door behind him. 

At just past 3am, it was still fairly dark out, and by force of habit, Castiel left his porch light on. He wasn’t expecting anyone, more like just hoping. 

It was stupid, probably also completely futile, but Cas had taken to leaving a light on, just in case Dean came by. He needed the man to know he was still welcome, that someone was still waiting there with open arms. Their last parting had been a little less than friendly and it still sat heavy as a stone in Castiel’s heart. 

He knew rationally that Dean probably didn’t consider him a friend, hell, he probably didn’t think of Cas as anything more than a stranger he had brushed lives with a couple times, but Cas couldn’t help but feel a connection with the man. 

It had been a few years since Dean had walked out the door, and Cas had stopped searching for him a long time ago. He had no choice really, he barely had anything to go on. He didn’t know Dean’s last name, had no phone number and no idea where he lived. As far as anyone in the town could tell, he was just another man that had passed through. Nobody could give him any more information other than a confirmation that a tall dude had been by. 

Cas placed his phone, wallet, and keys on the little table near the entrance and pulled off his shirt on his way to the bathroom. He took a long shower, cool enough to give him some relief from the sweltering summer heat, warm enough to loosen his muscles. He rinsed the soap out of his hair and watched the foam swirl down the drain. 

As he dried off and slipped into pyjamas, he planned out the rest of his day. He would get a couple hours of sleep, then he had promised to meet Gabriel for lunch just outside of town. He was genuinely looking forward to catching up with his friend, who somehow always had wild stories to share despite a relatively laid back lifestyle. Gabriel had, thankfully, mellowed out some since his raves and stripper days. 

Castiel set an alarm, then made himself a cup of tea and finished most of it before the pull of exhaustion drew him to bed. His head hit the pillow and he was out like a light. 

He woke to a steady buzzing after what felt like just a couple minutes, but once the fog of sleep evaporated, he realized the buzzing was his alarm, and he had better get ready if he didn’t want to be late. It didn’t take long for Castiel to brush his teeth and change into jeans and a t-shirt, and soon he was in the car and driving to the pre picked bar and grill to meet Gabriel. 

Lunch, of course, stretched into drinks afterwards, then a couple rounds of pool, and by the time Castiel got back into his car it was nearing sunset. He pulled onto the road and decided to take the scenic route home. The deserted little two lane added ten minutes to his driving time, but Cas felt it was completely worth the detour for the view of the sun dipping down over the wheat fields. 

Up ahead, a sleek black car caught his attention. It was pulled off the side of the road at an awkward angle, like the driver had swerved. Castiel rolled to a stop behind it, already pulling out his phone to call for help if needed. 

His heart leapt up into his throat when he realized the driver was slumped over the steering wheel. He appeared to be unconscious. 

Castiel knocked on the window and to his relief, the man jumped up. He turned and gave Cas a furious look, and that’s when everything seemed to freeze. It was Dean. 

He stepped back and Dean climbed out of the car, looking groggy and disoriented. 

“Hello Dean,” Cas started awkwardly. He wasn’t sure if Dean was angry with him, hurt by him, or just plain wouldn’t want to see him.

“What’re you doing here Cas?” Dean half slurred. Cas couldn’t tell if he was sleepy or drunk. Or both. 

“I was driving home. I saw the car pulled over and thought you needed help.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought you don’t do stitches.”

Cas took the mild jab for what it was and relaxed. Knowing Dean wasn’t angry with him allowed him to fall back into an easy rhythm. 

“What are you doing here?” Cas asked. It was only fair that he reverse the question. Dean hadn’t shown up in years and now here he was, in the middle of nowhere. 

“I don’t really know. I was just driving.”

“For how long Dean?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know. A couple days? A week?”

Cas looked at him. Really looked at him. Dean was ruffled, the area beneath his eyes was dark, his skin was pale, and he was thinner than he had been last time Cas had seen him. Thinner than he had been right after he got out of _Hell._

“Come over for dinner,” Cas said. His tone was firm. It was a question, but he wasn’t really asking. 

Dean hesitated for a long moment before speaking. “You were pretty clear about not wanting to see me Cas.”

“Dean,” Cas scoffed, mildly annoyed at his own inability to communicate. “That wasn’t at all what I meant. Come home with me. Have dinner with me. You at least owe me that.”

Another long moment. Cas wasn’t sure if Dean was thinking about it, or if he was going to pass out, which seemed highly probably with the way his eyes kept glazing over. 

“Okay,” Dean said eventually. Cas wanted to be relieved, but the way Dean’s voice broke just made him worry more. 

“Can you drive?”

Dean scoffed at that and swung away from his lean against the car, opening the door in a practiced movement. 

“I’ll follow you,” He said in lieu of answering. His tone left no room for argument, so Cas didn’t even bother. He shot Dean a tight lipped smile, trying to keep his worry from showing, and climbed back into his own car. 

His mind was swirling with questions, but the state seemed to be a new norm whenever he was around Dean. Cas wondered vaguely if he should have taken a few therapy courses at the local university while he had had the chance. _Too late now._

He resolved to just be as supportive as possible, to give Dean whatever it was he needed for as long as the man would allow, and hope wildly that it would be enough. 

He pulled into his driveway, parking the car halfway on his tiny patch of grass to leave room for Dean's car as well. Something swelled and burst in his chest as he watched Dean pull up beside him. The cars looked like they belonged there together. 

Dean, to his surprise, pulled out a rumpled looking duffle bag from the backseat before following Castiel inside. Dean shrugged at Cas’s curious look. 

“You always seem to be insisting that I shower here. Figured a change of clothes wouldn’t hurt.”

“It’s not my fault you always seem to show up covered in blood and dirt.” Cas had meant it as a joke, but the words kind of fell flat and Dean didn’t smile. 

For the first time in years, Cas resisted the urge to turn on the porch light. Dean was home. The habit no longer served a purpose. 

Cas washed his hands and began pulling out ingredients, mapping out a proper dinner for the two of them. Dean stood half in the kitchen half in the entrance, looking lost. 

“You can take that shower you know,” Cas said. Dean looked relieved at having some instructions to follow. He readjusted his duffle and ducked into the bathroom. A minute later, Cas heard the shower going. 

He pulled out the whole chicken he had bought yesterday rubbed seasonings on it, and laid it neatly in the middle of a deep pan. He then quartered some potatoes, onions, and chopped a couple carrots to crowd them around the chicken. A sprinkling of oil, paprika, and salt later, he slid the whole thing into the oven and washed his hands again, ready to chop up the salad ingredients. 

Dean came out of the bathroom far sooner than Cas had expected. He was dressed in a well worn t shirt and the sweatpants Cas had given him so long ago. It made something flip in Cas’s heart to see Dean dressed in his clothing. 

Dean ambled slowly over and sat gingerly on a stool at the kitchen bar, watching Cas expertly slice up a cucumber. 

“Still working at that bar?” Dean asked after a beat. 

Cas smiled as he cut up a tomato. “Yes. I like that bar.”

He knew the polite thing to do was ask Dean a follow up question about his own life, but he also knew that Dean led one hell of a difficult one, and he didn’t know if the man would appreciate any prying. Castiel didn’t want to press on any wounds. 

Dean yawned and tried to stifle the sound into his elbow but didn’t quite manage. 

“Tired?” Castiel asked lamely. 

“It’s…been a couple weeks since I’ve slept through the night.” Dean admitted. And that right there was enough of a revelation to have Cas floored. Weeks? That was completely unacceptable. Cas knew that Dean was the self proclaimed protecter of humanity against all things unnatural, but dammit, someone should have been there to make sure the man was taking care of himself too. 

“The chicken should be done in half an hour or so, you can sleep after we eat.”

Dean looked at him, startled. “Cas I’m…I didn’t come here to stay.”

Castiel finished tearing the lettuce into the bowl and wiped his hands on a towel before fixing Dean with a look. 

“Dean, you’re more than exhausted. When was the last time you had a decent meal? An hour to really kick back and rest? Please, I know you’re busy and you have places to go and things to kill, but for me, please stay the night.”

Dean practically gaped at him, like he couldn’t wrap his head around why another person would want good things for him just for the sake of wanting them. Slowly, he nodded. 

Castiel moved on to crumble some feta cheese into the bowl. Dean seemed absorbed in watching him and Cas let it happen. The silence was comfortable, almost domestic. 

The oven timer beeped just as Cas finished washing the last dish, and he pulled out the hot pan, replacing it with a frozen apple pie before shutting the oven again and resetting the timer. He pulled down two plates, two forks, and a large knife to carve the chicken. Dean’s eyes followed the glint of sharp metal like he didn’t trust it, so Cas turned the handle and offered it to him. 

“Will you cut some chicken for us?” 

Dean slowly took the knife out of his hands, and Cas was surprised at how calloused and warm Dean’s fingers were as they brushed against his. He cleared his throat and turned back to the fridge to pull out a fresh, yet untouched six pack of beers. He set the cardboard container onto the counter, bottles making a quiet clinking sound. 

“I thought you didn’t have alcohol in the house,” Dean said almost teasingly. 

“I do now,” Cas smirked back. He didn’t mention that Dean was the only reason he bought it in the first place. He didn’t bring up the fact that keeping his fridge stocked with beer was his own twisted way of apologizing for the horrible misunderstanding of last time. He didn’t tell Dean that he rarely drank, definitely not often enough to warrant buying an entire six pack. 

He scooped some roasted potatoes and carrots onto his plate alongside the chicken that Dean had served, and turned around to grab a pair of salad tongs and a glass of water for himself. Dean said nothing as he unscrewed the cap of one bottle and took a long drink. 

For a while, the only sounds in the room were the quiet clinks of cutlery on cheap ceramic plates, but eventually, Cas couldn’t take it any longer. 

“So. How have you been?” He started, trying to sound nonchalant. They both knew what he was really asking. 

“I’m not dead, so I guess that’s a good thing,” Dean deflected. The only problem was that his tone made it clear he didn’t think it was a good thing. Castiel wanted to punch something for the unfairness that was called life. The urge surprised him. He was usually quite collected. 

“That’s not a real answer,” He said once he had swallowed a bite of salad and reigned in his emotions. Dean was a hunter. He would not appreciate the inexplicably protective sentiment Cas couldn’t seem to control.

“Honestly Cas..not great.”

Maybe it was the quiet ease of a real home made dinner, maybe it was Castiel’s steady presence, but Dean went on to elaborate without further prompting. Actually, the words tumbled out of him like water from a smashed dam.

He went on to describe the battle against an apocalypse. The fight against Lucifer. How much of a failure he was and how he could come up with no better solution than to let his own brother swan dive into hell to spend eternity trapped in a cage with the devil. He described how vicious that last battle had been, and when he tenderly touched his jaw and mostly masked a wince, Cas realized with a horrible sinking feeling that this had literally _just happened._

He finally placed that glazed over look Dean had had in the car. He wasn’t drunk, he was grieving. 

“Dean,” Cas said gently once he had finished talking. He wasn’t quite sure where to go from there, so the lamest thing slipped out of his mouth. 

“Are you okay?”

Dean looked at him and Cas saw for the first time that his eyes were full of tears. 

“No, I’m not,” Dean answered. The raw honesty surprised Cas, and he did possibly the only think he knew how to do. He leaned awkwardly out of his chair and gathered Dean into his arms. 

Dean fell against him like he didn’t have the willpower to hold himself up anymore. Cas pressed a hand tight against his back, gently holding them together. His other hand came up to cradle Dean’s head. He let his fingers thread into Dean’s hair and he rubbed gently at his scalp, trying to somehow soothe the man that was now shaking and trying not to cry against him. 

“I am so sorry,” Cas whispered by his ear. He was grateful to the brothers for saving the world, of course he was, but seeing the magnitude of the sacrifice up close, the whole situation just didn’t sit right with him. 

Stupidly, only after he had asked that wide open question, Cas realized how much Dean had been holding back all evening. He felt like an idiot. He felt purely evil for making Dean put on a mask and pretend he had it all together for so long.

“I am so sorry,” Cas repeated, meaning it on hundreds of different levels. Dean gripped tight at his shirt and gasped for air between big shaking sobs. Cas held on to him, feeling for all the world that he was trying to hold together pieces of a grenade that had just gone off. 

They stayed like that for a long time, Castiel just breathing, and Dean desperately trying to control himself. Cas didn’t let go even after Dean’s tears slowed, and Dean didn’t pull away. 

The oven timer chose that moment to beep obnoxiously, and the men sprang apart. Cas reached for his oven mitt and Dean roughly scrubbed at his face, as if erasing the evidence of his breakdown would erase the breakdown itself. 

Castiel set the pie down and pulled out a tub of vanilla ice cream from the freezer to let it thaw out a little bit. He leaned his arms against the counter and watched Dean. 

“What can I do to help?” He asked after a beat. 

“You’ve done plenty,” Dean immediately answered with a hollow laugh. He straightened his t shirt and ran his fingers through his hair. “He made me promise not to look for him,” Dean admitted. The words sounded thick and painful. 

“Will you?”

Dean’s jaw clenched and unclenched several times before he answered. “No. No I won’t.” 

There was definitely a story behind that steely glare, some wall he had bumped into in the past. Maybe they had been in this situation before, made different choices, had different results. Either way, Cas decided to grant Dean the right to his privacy and didn’t ask for further explanations. 

“What will you do then?” He asked, part of him hoping that Dean would swear off hunting because of this. It was selfish, but in the seconds it took Dean to answer, Cas had already imagined a life for them. He imagined coming home from work to find Dean sprawled on the sofa in just his socks and sweats. He imagined kissing his soft lips and cooking together and taking long walks in the cool evening air. 

“I have no fucking clue,” Dean said, dissolving the fantasy with the lost tone of his voice. Cas didn’t push there either. Who was he to demand answers?

The pie had cooled enough to no longer be nuclear, so he sliced into it and scooped generous portions of vanilla ice cream on top. He slid a plate to Dean and tucked the ice cream back into the freezer before digging into his own slice. 

They ate in silence and Cas didn’t dare disturb it. Dean deserved some peace after having just bared his soul. Instead of starting a conversation, Cas thought back to all the time he had spent with Dean, everything he knew about him. 

He thought of that first broken night in the bar when Dean had been so young and lost, then how he had watched him grit his teeth and tend to his own injuries as if he knew there was nobody else on his side to do it for him. Then, years later, that disorienting and somewhat thrilling meeting in a strip club of all places. Cas could kick himself for it now. He never would have let Dean walk away if he knew that Hell was real. He thought bitterly to the broken shell of a man he had found, by chance, dirty and disoriented in the middle of a forest. 

He didn’t know what string of fate kept bringing them together, didn’t even know if he really believed in that sort of thing. But he knew for sure that he didn’t regret one second of it. He was glad for any time he had spent in Dean’s presence, and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat protective of him for it. Except it stretched further than protectiveness. 

There was a thin current of lust, because how could anyone not fall for those achingly beautiful eyes? There was almost a childish awe, like meeting a superhero in real life. But overtop of all of that, there was the knowledge of how much Dean tried. How much he cared. How much he sacrificed. 

Knowing these things about him, Cas couldn’t help but love him a little bit. Sure, he had the random fling now and then, and no, he wasn’t constantly pining and waiting, but neither could he deny that the door to his heart was always kept a crack open for Dean. It always had been and probably always would be. 

Dean startled him out of his rambling thoughts by gathering their empty plates and setting them gently in the sink. He startled Cas further by soaping up a sponge and washing them too. Cas covered the pie and the leftover chicken and stuck them both in the fridge while Dean finished with the dishes. 

“You can take the bed,” Cas offered. Dean looked dead on his feet and based on the story he had just told, Cas knew it had probably been a while since he had slept in a real bed. 

“There’s probably space for both of us, I don’t take up much room.” Dean says it like an almost offhand comment, but Cas knew what he really meant. He knew Dean probably couldn’t bear to be alone after having just took a dive down memory lane and dredged up the horrific events of the last couple weeks. 

He just nodded and flicked off the kitchen lights. In his room, he turned on his bedside lamp, casting the room in a warm glow. He pulled back the covers and Dean immediately crawled in, but Cas turned to the dresser to pull out a pair of pyjamas. 

He stripped off his jeans and his shirt right there, not really caring if Dean was watching. When he slipped under the thin covers, Dean immediately plastered himself to Cas’s side. It wasn’t unpleasant, and definitely not unwelcome, so he shifted, letting Dean’s head rest on his shoulder. He slid a hand down his back to cradle him close, ignoring the subtle bumps of all the scars Cas knew were there. 

With his other hand, he stretched out to turn off the lamp, and eventually fell asleep with Dean’s breath ghosting in an even rhythm across his collarbones. 

He woke just before dawn to a quiet rustle. In the pale light, he saw Dean hastily shoving his clothes into his bag, all the calm energy they had gone to bed with had evaporated and been replaced by something frantic. Purposeful. 

Cas slid out of bed and padded quietly into the living room. 

“Dean?”

“Shit. I didn’t mean to wake you Cas, please go back to bed.”

“Where are you going?” Cas asked, confused. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew Dean probably wouldn’t stay, but part of him had hoped. 

“Hunting. Out. Away. I can’t stay Cas. I can’t. It’s just too dangerous. Anything I touch, anyone I get close to, anyone I love, they end up dead, and I can’t be responsible for that anymore.”

Cas’s throat felt tight. He wanted to deny it, to tell Dean he was being delusional, but the man had solid evidence, not to mention a very raw hurt to back him up. 

“Dean I want to be clear, you’re always welcome here. The door will always be open for you.” The words felt lame in Castiel’s mouth, but he didn’t know how to get across to Dean that he was _wanted._ That Cas would keep him safe. 

“Yeah, I’ll swing by at some point,” Dean said with a reassuring smile. Even as he heard it, Cas knew it was a lie.

There was clearly no changing his stubborn mind, so Cas swallowed, and did perhaps the hardest thing he had ever had to do. He nodded curtly, and pulled Dean in for a tight hug. 

When the door shut behind Dean, he fought against every fibre of his being and did not follow. 

He heard the rumble of Dean’s engine, and the muffled sounds of the car pulling out of the driveway, and Cas refused to feel hurt as he flicked on the porch light once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When runnerfiveisacat gave me the ‘goes to Cas instead of Lisa” prompt, I really thought this would turn into a happy ending sort of chapter, but in a weird way I’m not ready for this to end, and also I’m way too cooped up and angsty to write a happy ending just yet. 
> 
> For the next chapter, I’m thinking Cas should get kidnapped somehow. I have no idea how or why or when, so if you have a flash of inspiration let me know!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo. Me again. Some quick warnings for this chapter, just because it does get a little messy. There are kinda graphic depictions of gore and violence, and some very brief mentions of rape and suicide (neither of which happen.) Please mind your triggers, I would 100% rather you skip this chapter than hurt yourself. I will provide a clean summary of it in the end note for you. 
> 
> On another note, the idea to include soulless Sam and Samuel in this chapter came from TwistedAzara and Why_do_you_want_to_know. I’m so very thankful to all of you who have been supporting this fic with prompts. Without your love and brilliant minds it would have been nothing more than a single chapter. You guys are the wind beneath my wings. The ink in my pen. The battery to my laptop.

It happened exactly like it would have in a movie. Cas diligently locked up the bar, walked straight to his car, then fumbled with his keys in the semi dark. Of course, he dropped them. Of course, they fell into a shallow puddle, because where else would they fall?

Cas crouched to pick them up, ignoring his aching leg muscles, and when he stood he found himself chest to chest with a man that was somehow bigger and burlier than he was. 

He opened his mouth to say something about minding personal space when out of nowhere, the guy clocked him on the head. 

Cas was not a weak man, but he dropped like a stone and he stayed down. The world swirled and spun around him. He was vaguely aware of being hoisted up and dumped roughly onto a scratch surface, but then the world went dark. 

He eventually regained consciousness, fully prepared to roll out of bed and laugh at his nightmare. The only problem was that he was strung up by his wrists, feet barely brushing the ground. Nowhere near his messy bedroom.

Cas lurched, tugging hard against his restraints, but all it did was light his shoulder joints on fire. They felt like they might rip out, who knows how long they had been supporting his weight?

His first fully formed thought was that he should call for help, but just as he filled his lungs with air and prepared to give the loudest bellow of his life, he heard a weak moan, followed by a threatening snarl. 

“Shut up or I’ll gut you,” growled a voice that was much too close for Cas’s liking. He tried to shift his weight onto his feet but he was strung up too high. The chains rattled loudly and his heart leapt straight into his throat. 

“Ah the fresh meat is awake. Welcome welcome.” 

A light flicked on and the man that had snatched Cas from the parking lot stepped into the harsh glow of the bare bulb. He was holding a small and very grimy knife, and a large bowl. He dropped the knife unceremoniously into the bowl and shifted to hold it under one arm. From his pocket he dug out a key and slotted it into the thick padlock on Cas’s cage, which _what the fuck. He was in a cage._

“Hold still and this won’t hurt as bad,” The man suggested. And okay. Who even says that? Who seriously says that and expects someone to be still?

“Get away from me,” Cas snarled. He thrashed backwards and flinched away from the knife, landing a solid kick to the man’s abdomen, but he only laughed. Cas couldn’t control the sharp groan he made as the knife sliced dully across both wrists. The man held the bowl to catch the spurting blood, but a good portion of it sloshed down over them both. From somewhere in the back of Cas’s mind, he vaguely noted that the man was exceptionally stupid. If he wanted blood, this was by far not the smartest way to collect it. 

Still, the bowl filled with alarming speed, and Cas soon felt too weak to fight back. He slumped against his chains, no longer paying attention to the pull on his shoulders. 

“Alright, drama queen,” The man scoffed. He set the bowl down and the sight of so much blood made Cas’s stomach turn. Bile rose up in his throat and he was mutely grateful that he hadn’t eaten anything. The man pulled another key out of his pocked and fumbled for a minute near Castiel’s wrists. 

Cas had a moment of blind relief when he was free, but it lasted only as long as it took for his body to drop to the ground. It was jarring, and he found with a spike of panic that he didn’t have the energy to stand. 

Through some long forgotten instinct, he had enough presence of mind to cross his arms and put pressure on his wrists, but the bleeding was already slowing. Cas tried not to look down, the sight of his mangled skin was nauseating. 

“Heal up. I’ll be back in a few days,” the man ordered. He retrieved his blood filled bowl and relocked the cage. Cas wanted to move into a corner so he wasn’t so exposed, but he didn’t have the energy. The coolness of the concrete seeped into his cheek and kickstarted a mild headache, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing of his wrists. 

The next time Cas woke, the bare bulb was still on. He shifted and found his bones felt frozen with cold. Stiff. In his line of sight, he had nothing but the wire of his cage and a slice of the floor, which was, disgustingly, splattered in blood. 

Cas moved slowly, everything ached. His wrists had scabbed over, but the skin around the scab was hot, red, and inflamed. It took months, years, but eventually Cas stood. He walked the perimeter of the cage. It was tall enough to stand in, but not wide or long enough to take more than two steps in either direction. 

He rattled the door, but it didn’t budge. 

How the _hell_ was this real life? Cas had heard stories of people getting snatched in the dark, but never for a second did he even consider that it could happen to him. And what sort of sick twisted person drained someone’s blood into a bowl?!

Cas realized with a twist that maybe this man was one of those monsters Dean fought. A wild part of him hoped that was true, because if so, there was a chance he could be saved. 

“Hey,” rasped a voice from across the room.

Cas bristled, ready for a fight this time, but nobody appeared. 

“You made it,” the voice said again. 

“Who are you?” Cas asked suspiciously. 

“James. I’m really glad you’re awake man. Nobody else made it. The guy is a brute.”

“What do you mean nobody else made it? Where are we?”

“I have no idea. He keeps stringing people up and slicing into them.”

“What?” Cas asked, unable to keep the horror out of his voice. 

“For blood. These guys are vampires or something. Who the hell needs that much human blood?”

Cas stuttered. This was twisted beyond comprehension. He was in a _cage._

“How long have I been out?” Cas finally managed to ask. Probably not the most important question but it was something. 

James made a small huffing noise. 

“I don’t know what to tell you man. It’s really hard to tell time in here. It was a while. They drained you two, maybe three more times. I thought you were dead.”

“How long have _you_ been here?” Cas asked, suddenly too weak to stand anymore. He slumped down agains the thick mesh of his cage. 

“Its been a fucking while,” James answered bitterly. Cas knew from a random crime show that he must have watched at some point that the chance of being found drastically decreases as time goes on.

“Why didn’t they kill us?” Cas asked. He didn’t want to die, of course not, but in times of high stress, the wildest things run through your mind. 

“Because,” James rasped weakly from across the room, “they come back every couple days to drain us again.”

Cas, if possible, felt even more nauseous. He lifted a hand to rub a crick out of his neck and found that he had several large scabs there too. This was _crazy._ It had to be some twisted sort of dream, he would wake up soon and find himself warm and in bed. Maybe someone roofied him at the bar. But no. Even that thought was too wild to be true because he never drank on the job. 

A door opened and crashed shut, and Cas had just enough time to stand again before James let out an impressive stream of curses. 

“Ah shut up,” came a rough voice. Cas couldn’t see who it was because the pool of light didn’t reach very far, but he could hear that it sounded different from the man that had first spoken to him. Overall it wasn’t a good sign, it meant there were more of them. 

“Get away from me. You’re sick,” James spewed. Cas heard the distinct sound of spit flying, then the wet thwack of a blow, the hollow sound of suddenly empty lungs. 

“You’ll pay for that,” The man snarled. 

“Wait,” Cas interjected. He regretted it as soon as the word left his mouth, but he couldn’t just stand there and do nothing, so he pressed on. “Leave him alone. Take me.” And yes, it was probably a royally stupid thing to say, but Cas kind of had a record going now for how many stupid things he could stay in a row and didn’t want to break his streak. 

“I’m not picky,” The man grunted. He locked James’s cage back up and James didn’t protest, making Cas wonder just how hard he had been hit. 

The man stepped up to his cage and Cas saw with a roil of horror that the man wasn’t carrying a bowl this time. He really shouldn’t have been wishing for a draining, but what was the alternative? A good beating? Rape? Death? 

He scrambled to the far end of his cage, but it did him no good because the man, scrawnier than the last one, crouched and crowded his space. 

“Tilt your neck for me love,” he asked in a sickening voice. Cas didn’t move. 

“I said tilt your neck.” The man repeated, anger shading his voice darkly. He gripped Cas under the chin and wretched his head sideways, then leaned in closer. Cas watched with a frozen, fascinated sort of horror as another pair of teeth grew from his reddened gums, razor sharp. 

“It’s not feeding time, but I want a snack.” The man said, breath washing hotly over Cas’s face. He had nowhere to press, no power to fight as the man sunk his teeth into the delicate skin below Castiel’s ear and bit down hard, drawing blood. 

Cas heard a long, wet wail, and it took several seconds for his brain to catch up and realize the sound was coming from his own mouth. 

The pain was nearly unbearable. The man was pressing his body down, making Cas want to crawl out of his own skin, but it was nothing compared to the sharp sucking on his neck. The skin was _on fire._

“OY, Raul.” 

Cas heard another gruff voice and a higher muffled mewling sound, like someone had stuffed a kitten in a bag. The door slammed again.

“Quit pigging out. Got another one for you.” 

Raul came off Castiel’s neck with a wet pop, and both he and Cas turned to see what was happening. 

The first man, the one that had knocked Cas out in the parking lot, dropped a teeny bound girl into the open cage right next to Cas. Her eyes were wide in shock, her hair hung limp in her face and stuck to her forehead with sweat. 

“Ohhhh a young one.” Raul said, eyes gleaming with excitement. 

“No,” Cas managed to groan out. He would rather die than let these monsters get anywhere near the girl. She was struggling to stand, but her arms and legs were both bound and she had landed with her face mashed into the concrete. 

“Eh, this one’s got a bit of a hero complex?” The first man said, amusement light on his tone. 

“I was never one to deny a death wish. Let me just grab the knife. We all need to eat you know,” he said mildly, shooting an accusatory glare at Raul. 

“Sorry Sean,” Raul said quickly, eyes glued to the floor. 

“All is forgiven,” Sean answered thickly. He put one meaty hand on Raul’s neck. “Go grab the big bowl,” He said softly into his ear. Cas’s heart dropped but Raul only nodded quickly and scampered off. 

He returned only seconds later with a large glass bowl and the same dirty knife, and handed them almost reverently to Sean, who wasted no time in entering Cas’s cage and crouching over him. 

“No,” Cas whispered weakly, but he may as well not have wasted the energy. Sean sliced neatly over the bite mark and held the bowl tight to Cas’s neck as blood poured out, gush by gush. 

Cas turned to the girl, who was watching this happen, eyes as wide as they could be. 

“Run,” Cas gurgled out. The world went dark. 

_A crash._

_“ON YOUR RIGHT SAM”_

_A wet slice. A thunk._

_“Hunters,” growled._

_“SAMUEL”_

_“I’m fine, get the girl,” grunted._

_Chains rattling._

_“WHAT THE-“_

_“DEAN. It’s me.”_

_A gunshot. Two._

_A hand behind his head, too gentle, too far off._

_“Cas,” a broken sound, more a sob than a word._

_Darkness._

Cas woke to an incessant beeping, but he didn’t move. The sound of his alarm was actually comforting. It brought him back to earth after what was probably the worst nightmare he had ever had. 

“Mr. Novak, you’re aware that your husband tried to commit suicide?” A smooth soothing voice. A woman. 

“No ma’am. It wasn’t suicide. I know him he’s-“ the voice broke off, rough around the edges. 

“The markings on his wrists are cause for concern.”

“The other doc said it was an animal attack.” He sounded near tears. 

A hum. “It’s possible. There are clear bite marks. I just want to make sure we considered this from all angles. But if you’re sure..”

“I am.” The interruption was firm. 

Another hum. “I’ll leave you to it then. The antibiotic course should be finished in an hour and if he wakes and is feeling fine you should be good to take him home.”

Cas slowly peeled open his eyes, but the room was very bright and he could see nothing but the blinding light. This is definitely not how he enjoyed waking up in the mornings. 

“Hey,” breathed a relieved voice on his left. Cas turned and found that his neck was covered in something itchy. Bandages. 

“Cas it’s me.” His eyes adjusted and the world around him fell into place with a disorienting jolt. This was a hospital room. That was Dean.

“Hi,” Cas croaked back, but it was just that. A croak. Dean immediately let go of his hand, which, since when had they been holding hands? He grabbed a styrofoam cup with a straw and held it up to Cas, who drank without asking what was in it. He trusted Dean. 

The cool water rushed down his throat like a new beginning. 

“Hi,” he tried again, voice already a million times stronger. “Mr. Novak.”

“I am so sorry. They wouldn’t let me in unless I was related and it just slipped out,” Dean said in a rush. Cas shook his head to tell him he had nothing to be sorry for. The bandages made crinkling noises and Dean’s hand immediately threaded into his hair. 

“Don’t move. You’re okay but don’t move.”

“Okay,” Cas said in lieu of nodding. 

“Do you remember anything?” Dean asked, eyes full of concern. 

It all came crashing back then. The parking lot. The cage. The bowl. The blood. 

“How long?” Cas asked softly. 

“I don’t know,” Dean said, looking even more distressed at not having answers. 

“The girl?”

“She’s safe. Back with her parents. Probably gonna need a lifetime of therapy,” Dean admitted with a wince. 

Cas reached a hand out and cupped it over Dean’s stubbled face, rubbing a thumb over his cheek. Dean looked tired, worried, stretched thin. 

“Thank you for coming,” Cas said, feeling that the words were too empty to properly convey how deep his gratitude went. 

“I didn’t get there first,” Dean said with a disbelieving laugh. “My brother, who I mourned for two whole months, is alive and well. Or, mostly well. Somehow the cage spit his body out but kept his soul. The man is walking around with no emotions, making calculations about human lives and honestly, its scaring me.” Dean’s eyes flicked up to meet Cas’s. 

“I’d say that sounds crazy but I just discovered vampires are real so nothing is impossible now.”

Dean laughed a little at that, and the worry lines around his eyes smoothed. Cas shifted in the bed and Dean immediately leapt up from his chair to help. 

“Stand down Dean,” Cas said with a half joking huff. “I just want to sit up.”

“Sorry Cas, you lost a lot of blood. Scared me to death man. I don’t know how you got mixed up in all this.”

Cas let his socked feet dangle off the bed and he leaned forwards, balancing with his hands on the bed. Dean diligently rearranged the IV tubing so it wouldn’t tug. 

“Maybe monsters can just smell it when you have a crush on a hunter,” Cas said.

“You’ve got a crush on me?” Dean asked teasingly. 

Cas huffed, trying not to blush. “I think it’s automatic. Half the time I see you you’re shirtless. What else am I supposed to feel?”

Dean, clearly not expecting that level of honesty, said nothing. He picked up Cas’s tubing free hand and brushed a gentle kiss across the back of it instead. Cas watched him, a tender ache in his heart. 

“Are you in pain?” Dean asked after a beat. 

Cas took a moment to really pay attention to his body. He was stiff, like he had slept wrong, but it didn’t really _hurt._ His bandaged cuts were more like dull throbs now. He couldn’t really feel his IV site. 

“I’m okay actually,” he said. Dean seemed a lot less tense after hearing that. 

“How did I end up here?” Cas asked. There were holes in his memory and this was probably the biggest one. 

“Well,” Dean started, readjusting his grip on Cas’s hand. “After the surprise run in with Sam and … Samuel…my grandpa, who is somehow also alive by the way, we sliced through all the vamps and you know, freed the prisoners. I didn’t even realize it was you until I got close, and even then I thought you were dead. I drove you to the hospital and what do you know, a couple of blood bags and bandaids later, here you are.”

Cas listened to all this, absorbing it, and his only thought when Dean finished was how stressful it must have been to live through that. So many changes in such a short time. 

“Are you okay?” Cas asked, suddenly needing to know if Dean was hurt. If his mind was intact. 

Dean let out a bark of laughter. “You almost just died and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

“Dean,” Cas admonished softly. He tugged Dean up and closer until they were chest to chest. 

“Are you okay?” Cas repeated softly, tangling a hand into Dean’s hair and ignoring the tug on his taped IV.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” Dean said roughly, but that was enough of an answer. Also, that plan was 100% completely fine with Cas. 

Dean’s eyes flicked down to Cas’s lips, and Cas didn’t need to be hinted at twice. He leaned forwards and kissed Dean softly, savouring the electric thrill, the soft press of his lips, the surprised little noise Dean made. 

“Move in with me,” Cas whispered against Dean’s mouth when they finally pulled away enough to breathe. Dean kissed him back. He didn’t say yes, but the way he kissed sure felt like confirmation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long note but bear with me. Three things;
> 
> 1\. Chapter summary: Cas is kidnapped by vampires and Dean ends up rescuing him alongside soulless Sam and Samuel (surprise!). In the hospital, where Cas is getting patched up, he asks Dean to move in with him.
> 
> 2\. You know how some people get intrusive thoughts? I get intrusive story endings. For a wild couple minutes, I let myself imagine the worst possible ending for this, and although I won’t make it happen, it was evil enough that I have to share it. Go on and imagine this for a moment;
> 
> After the years of slow romancing, of thinking of each other from afar, of all they’ve endured, Dean cannot bear to involve Cas in his mess of a life any further. He cuts himself off, refuses to make contact, changes all his numbers and tells all other hunters not to breathe a word of him to Cas on pain of death. 
> 
> Cas is frantic for a couple years. He tries everything, literally everything, but eventually realizes traditional methods aren’t gonna cut it. He turns to magic. Witchcraft, demon deals, whatever he can get his hands on. He is hurt by the distance, but his only goal is to protect Dean and make sure he is safe. He doesn’t ever contact him, all his magic is used to give Dean a leg-up from afar. Dean attributes years worth of near misses as just dumb luck. 
> 
> The magic eventually takes it’s toll, and Cas becomes dark, soul fragmented, turning to human sacrifices in exchange for Dean’s protection. Dean gets wind of a string of killings, and once he and Sam track down the being behind it, he comes face to face with his lover, twisted almost beyond recognition, definitely beyond saving. 
> 
> It’s his worst nightmare, except this time he has to live it out for real. He doesn’t even try to muffle his heart wrenching sobs as he slits Cas’s throat. He doesn’t even try to move out of the way of the blood spurts as he holds the only man he has ever truly loved tight to his chest. He doesn’t fight it as his own breathing stutters and hitches right alongside Cas’s gasping death rattle. And he never recovers. 
> 
> 3\. Tada! So that was an example of a horrible terrible ending. Any ideas for a good one? Or even where to go from here? Would you guys be interested in a non life or death chapter with perhaps just some fluff instead?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a loooong one, but you guys deserve it after dealing with all my back and forth. Theres fluff, smut, and angst here. It’s like a three course meal, let me know what you think of it! And as always, I beg you to let me know of your brilliant ideas for future chapters.

The next few days were a blur. Cas promised to come back in a week to get the stitches removed, then was discharged home with instructions on how to change his bandages.

He called Crowley and found out through a loud and heavily accented rant that he had been missing for almost three weeks. Crowley had thought he was dead and demanded that Cas give him some sort of notice next time he decided to dip into his vacation time. Cas didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. 

Dean was in and out. He met with his brother and grandfather at motels, at bars, at restaurants. There seemed to be some tension between them, like they weren’t quite sure how to behave around one another, weren’t sure of the new boundaries. 

Dean’s flannels and jeans appeared one day, folded in a drawer of Castiel’s closet. The Impala was parked on the driveway when Dean was home, but even when the spot beside his car was empty, Castiel didn’t freak out. He knew it would be filled again soon. 

Honestly, that first week, they barely saw each other. Dean was gone a lot, which Castiel didn’t blame him for, he had a lot he needed to sort out. Cas rested, diligently picked up groceries, and one week later, presented himself bright and early to the hospital for stitch removal. 

That afternoon, he had a short shift at the bar, his first in almost a month. It was perfect timing, since Dean had left that morning to help Sam finish off a hunt, promising to be back by evening.

Crowley eyed his scabs but didn’t comment, and life felt manageable again after that. 

When Cas parked his car early that evening, he couldn’t help his automatic smile. The Impala was there, gleaming and black. Dean was home, just as promised. 

The thick scent of something burning hit Cas as soon as he stepped through the door. Dean was pulling something out of the oven, waving a towel and swearing impressively at a thin stream of curling smoke.

Cas dropped his keys on the coffee table and couldn’t help the little cough that escaped. He turned the oven vent on and opened the kitchen window as wide as it would go. 

“Hello Dean.”

“No. Don’t even start. I wanted to make us a nice dinner as a thank you and I burned the bread and now the house doesn’t even smell like brownies anymore, it smells like..burnt bread.”

“You made brownies?” Cas asked, suddenly much more excited. 

Dean huffed and slid the burnt buns in the compost bin. He sighed deeply, back to Cas, and when he turned to face him again he had a sarcastically cheery look on his face. 

“Hi honey, how was work?” Dean asked, opening his arms wide. His hair was still damp from a shower and flopped down towards an eye.

Cas raised an eyebrow, trying hard not to laugh, but stepped into Dean’s hug anyways. His shirt smelled like burnt bread too but his arms were warm and strong. Safe. 

“That’s how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to walk in on a perfectly set table with perfectly unburnt food.”

Cas huffed a laugh as Dean let him go and turned to butter two new buns and slide them into the oven to toast. 

“I can walk out and walk back in again if you’d like,” he suggested cheekily. 

Dean shot him a little scowl, then his eyes drifted to Castiel’s neck, where only one thin white bandage remained. He covered the pink scars subconsciously, and his sleeve fell away from the thick scars on this wrists, which made him drop his hand and cover those instead. 

“Got the stitches out today?”

“Yeah. It hurt a lot less than the movies made me believe it would.”

Cas had meant to be funny but Dean only gave him a guilty little frown. 

“So, how was the hunt?” Cas asked, hoping Dean wouldn’t comment on the abrupt topic change. The guy beat himself up enough over what happened as it was. 

“Stupidly easy with the three of us. They didn’t even need me, not sure why I went.”

Cas took down two glasses from the cabinet and filled them with water before setting them down at the table. 

“You went because you’re worried about your brother,” Cas said.

Dean looked like he wanted to protest, but there was no arguing with that. He _was_ worried. “The kid is making all these ruthless little decisions. We have to get his soul back, this is getting out of hand.”

Cas nodded, trying to show support even though he didn’t really understand the whole soul-no soul business. Dean pulled the now properly toasted buns out of the oven and assembled the burgers. He laid them neatly on two plates and piled fries all around them before taking them over to the table. 

“Thank you,” Cas said sincerely, leaning over to give Dean a peck on the cheek. His heart did a summersault. He was getting more comfortable with these little displays of affection and Dean was slowly getting more comfortable receiving them. Actually, if the way he scooted his chair closer to Cas was anything to go by, he craved them more than he would ever admit. 

Dean took a huge bite of his burger and chewed twice before turning to Cas. “So what do you want to do tonight?”

Cas tried not to laugh at the way his words sounded, coming out all muffled from behind his mouthful of food. 

“I was thinking we could go down to the beach? There’s a pretty big lake a couple minutes drive away and it’s nice to walk through the sand this time of year.” He popped a fry into his mouth. It was salty and crisp. 

“Yeah okay,” Dean said after swallowing. He took a large gulp of water and then attacked his burger again. 

They washed the dishes like a well oiled machine. Dean soaped them up in warm water and rinsed them off, then handed them to Cas, who dried them and put them away. 

It was almost surreal, how easily they fell together. How easily they merged their lives. Cas, of course, was always somewhat nervous when Dean took a day or two to take care of a hunt, but so far, he had always come back. He knew Dean would eventually want to take on hunts further out, but Cas was fairly certain he could convince him that he would be able to help. 

The drive to the beach was short, and Dean pulled the impala onto the packed sand just as the sun was starting to dip below the water. 

Cas kicked off his sandals and Dean toed off his shoes and pulled off his socks, balling them up. Cas watched as Dean rolled up his jeans a couple times, then stepped into the sand. His face immediately smoothed over in amazement. He let out a little delighted laugh.

“Have you never been to a beach before?” Cas asked.

“I am a beach virgin,” Dean admitted with a grin. He held a hand out to Cas, who took it gladly and let himself be tugged straight to the water. The lake was warm washing over his feet, and Dean squeezed his hand, looking out at the horizon, completely amazed. 

“Look,” Dean breathed, stretching his free hand out to the sinking sun. The sky was painted in almost violent shades of pink and orange. 

Cas looked briefly at the sky, but then found it much more interesting to watch the colours reflected in Dean’s eyes instead. It was rare that he had the chance to look at him so openly, but Dean was entranced and didn’t seem to care. His face was so much more relaxed lately, the dark bruised skin under his eyes had lightened now that he was getting regular sleep. He was less pale, and with the slight tan, freckles bloomed over his skin. 

Castiel wanted to kiss each one.

“Cas, look at that.” 

He turned, finally, to look back at the sunset. There was only a thin sliver of sun left, and now deep purples and vibrant shades of turquoise were dancing over the softly rippling waves. 

It was nothing short of breathtaking. 

They stood there, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, feet in the warm lapping water as the sun finally dipped below the waves and the sky softened. 

“Thank you,” Dean said, his voice was thick with emotion. Cas gave in to the impulse to tug him into a hug. Dean deserved so much more than one random evening on a beach. He deserved everything, and Cas was determined to give it to him. 

He breathed deeply against the crook of Dean’s neck, inhaling and savouring his scent. Dean nuzzled further into him and slid his hands slowly down Cas’s back, then shamelessly over the curve of his ass and squeezed. Cas yelped, jumping slightly, but Dean only smirked. 

“Let’s go home,” he said, low, rough. Cas’s stomach swooped and he was suddenly glad he wouldn’t be the one driving because his muscles felt like jelly. 

They walked along the beach until the sand soaked the last droplets of the lake off their feet. When they got back to their shoes, Cas slid his feet back into his sandals and Dean brushed off the dry sand before putting his shoes back on. 

Dean had barely pulled back onto the road before he reached for Cas’s hand again. He toyed with his fingers the whole way back, and it really shouldn’t have been so sweet, but the simple movements made Cas’s heart leap. 

Dean pulled into the driveway and put the car in park, then turned off the engine. They sat in silence for thirty whole seconds before Dean swung his head around with a huge grin. 

“What?” Cas asked, already smiling because Dean’s happiness was infectious. 

“We have brownies.”

Cas laughed and opened the car door. “Not for long!” He raced to the front door and fumbled with the keys before finally getting it open. He tore into the kitchen, Dean hot on his heels. Cas slid to a halt in the middle of the room and Dean crashed right into him. Dean wrapped his arms immediately around Cas, which is a good thing because he was built like a literal wall and had sent Cas nearly flying. 

Cas let himself be held, completely trusting Dean to take his weight. Dean pulled him close and pressed a soft kiss to Cas’s lips, which sent shivers all down his back. They kissed fairly often now, but each one somehow felt more intense than the last. 

“I thought you wanted brownies,” Cas said softly once Dean pulled away. 

“This is sweeter,” Dean answered, punctuating his words with another quick peck. 

Cas scoffed and disentangled himself from Dean. “There’s no way I’m sweeter than chocolate Dean.” 

Dean had laid a towel over the pan as it cooled, and he flicked it off now. Cas handed him a knife and watched as he cut the dessert into squares, then carefully removed an edge piece. Dean held it out and Cas took a bite. It was _unreal._ Fudgy and full of chocolate chips. 

“Good huh?” Dean asked with a smirk. 

“Oh my god,” Cas moaned, leaning forward for another bite. Dean let him take it, then scooped up another piece for himself. 

“I can help you change that bandage after you shower,” Dean offered. Cas finished his piece and brushed the crumbs off in the sink. 

“That is very kind of you Dean, but it’s just one dressing, I don’t want to trouble you.”

Dean scoffed. “Come on, it’s no trouble. Besides, I think I make it prettier than you do,” Dean gestured to the crooked and poorly taped gauze just under Cas’s jaw, and suddenly Cas couldn’t argue. Gauze and tape just seemed determined to misbehave when he tried to do anything with them. 

“I’ll be right back then,” Cas said, leaning in to give Dean a small and very chocolatey kiss. He made a pit stop in their room to get a set of pyjamas, then closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower. 

It was a relief to wash off the grime of the day. Not that he was actually very dirty, but spending time at the bar always made him feel gross. When he finally stepped out and towelled dry, he leaned forwards to inspect his scars in the mirror. They were ugly, thanks to the infected knife, but they had healed fairly quickly and kind of made him look tough. 

He slipped on his shirt and looked at his bare wrists, which had suffered the worst damage by far. The scars there were long and jagged, with little dots on either side where the stitches had held him together. 

They made his stomach turn, so Cas pulled on his boxers and pyjama bottoms, resolutely pushing the memory of his kidnapping out of his mind. Dean was here. They were together. They were safe. 

He stepped out of the steamy bathroom and Dean was waiting with the first aid kit open on the nightstand in their bedroom. The first aid kit, before Dean, had contained four different sizes of bandaids, which Cas had thought was overkill. Now it was full to bursting with who even knows what. Heavy duty scissors, some mean looking curved needles, saline. 

“Let’s see what we have here,” Dean said as Cas perched on the edge of the bed beside him. He tilted his head to expose his neck, and Dean gently peeled away the tape. It came off easily, having spent the last ten minutes getting steamed in the shower. 

Dean hummed thoughtfully when the bandage was off. 

“What is it? Is it infected?” Cas asked, genuinely worried. That particular wound was the bite, which was horribly disgusting and Cas didn’t even want to think of how many germs had probably been crawling in there.

“No. It looks really good actually.”

Cas rolled his eyes. Only Dean would describe a healing wound as beautiful. 

“Actually, if you’re feeling okay, I think we could leave it open.”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re the expert, I’m okay with it if you think it’s okay.” 

Dean traced a finger just under the bite, making Cas shiver. 

“Yeah, I think it’s okay,” he said softly. Cas turned to look at him and Dean met his gaze with incredibly green eyes. Dean had that slightly glazed lost look again and Cas couldn’t let it linger there. Not on the face of the man he had grown to love so deeply. He turned properly towards Dean and cupped a hand over the light stubble on his jaw. 

“I’m alright Dean. It’s all okay. I’m not made of paper.” 

Dean nodded after a heavy moment, but Cas couldn’t tell if he agreed with him or if he was trying to convince himself. He leaned in and tipped his forehead to rest against Dean’s. They stayed that way, just breathing, and the tension bled out of them both. Dean went loose and pliant against him, so Cas shifted, laying them both down. 

Dean had changed into pyjamas while Cas was in the shower, but even the thin material of his shirt felt like miles between them, so Cas snaked a hand under the shirt and rested it flat against Dean’s chest, feeling his heartbeat thump steadily. 

“Can we do something?” Cas asked.

“Of course. Anything,” Dean breathed back, eyes open and honest. And Cas believed him, because they were there now. The week after his stay in the hospital had been packed with adjustments, so they hadn’t actually gotten around to having much fun in bed, but they had gotten to know each other better than Cas had ever gotten to know anyone before, and somehow that meant even more. 

They moved together. Cas bent when Dean pushed. Dean followed when Cas turned. They were tied with something deeper than physical pleasure, and it was that tie that allowed Cas to slowly lift Dean’s shirt and slip it off, tossing it somewhere behind him. It was that tie that drew a leg over and allowed him to sit lightly over Dean’s hips. That tie that magnetically pulled Cas down and connected their lips. 

Dean was a warm solid weight beneath him, but his lips were soft, slightly chapped. Cas scraped his teeth over Dean’s bottom lip, and he opened his mouth in a slight gasp, but Cas didn’t dive in. He wanted to spend hours at each stage. A lifetime. He wanted to revel in each feeling, each brush of skin, each swipe of a tongue. He wanted to taste Dean at every inch, for as long as he would allow. 

“Cas,” Dean rumbled out after several deliciously long minutes of kissing but not really kissing. “What are you doing.” His voice sounded ruined, too rough, like he had already been taken apart where Cas had barely even started. 

“I’m kissing you,” Cas answered, barely an inch away. He nosed along Dean’s jaw and placed a real proper kiss in the hollow under his ear. 

“No, you’re killing me. Nobody kisses like this,” Dean complained, but there was no acidity behind the words, just a thick lust. 

“Let me take care of you Dean,” Cas said, trailing the first kiss into another one, just a tiny bit lower. 

Dean huffed, chest rising and falling in one harsh moment. “Okay but if I die like this then it’s your fault.”

“You won’t,” Cas promised, planting another kiss lower still. Dean arched upwards, silently demanding more, but Cas kept on, down over his collarbones, back up to the curve of his shoulders, slowly, achingly slowly over each arm, the firm curve of each bicep, the soft crook of each elbow. Cas kissed Dean’s palms, then the backs of his hands, all the while aware that he was being watched with dark, hooded eyes. 

He returned briefly to Dean’s lips, kissing him properly this time, allowing Dean to deepen the kiss and explore his mouth. When he broke away, Dean’s hair was a mess, and he noted with a smirk of satisfaction that he must have been responsible for that. 

He kissed down to a nipple, and there. That was the spot that made Dean gasp and fist the sheets. Cas licked, then blew over the flushed skin, making Dean groan and arch up again under him. The hard line of him was obvious now through his thin pyjama bottoms, and Cas was feeling the same effect, but not yet. There was so much more to be done before they got there. 

Cas gently scraped his teeth over the nipple and this time Dean gasped out for real. His hands flew to Cas’s hair and gripped it almost painfully tight, and Cas tried to lift his head, wondering if what he was doing was still okay. Dean immediately pushed him back down and Cas smiled against his skin, switching to the other side to even things out. 

He scraped his fingers down Dean’s bare sides, then drifted his hands back up the middle, palms open agains the hills and valleys of Dean’s chest. His fingers bumped over scars, most silvery and old, some still pink and rather fresh. He scooted lower and kissed every single one, stopped to taste and learn every spot that made Dean shiver. 

When he reached the tantalizing trail of hair leading into Dean’s pants, he ran his fingers over it. Dean sucked in a deep breath, likely very ready to move on, but Cas was nowhere near finished. He placed a gentle kiss to the deep V of muscle that disappeared into Dean’s waistband, then straightened and took his weight onto his knees. 

“Turn over,” Cas ordered softly. Dean looked up at him for a frozen, disbelieving moment, but Cas didn’t move, so Dean flipped underneath him, immediately grinding obviously into the mattress. 

“No,” Cas said, sitting heavily on Dean’s hips again, even though the man immediately stilled under him. 

Dean’s back, if possible, was almost more impressive than his front. There were so many muscles, all of which Cas suddenly wished he knew the names of. He threaded his fingers up into Dean’s hair, then pressed them down, smoothing the tension out of his neck. Cas took his time, massaging his shoulders, then the tight lines of muscle beside his spine. 

Dean’s skin was hot under his hands, and he was breathing more heavily now, but Cas didn’t rush because tonight, they had all the time in the world. He touched each scar, the long looping one that curved around Dean’s side and towards his chest. The little round one up by his shoulder that looked suspiciously like a bullet wound. The assortment of claw marks, jagged scrapes, some thick, some thin, some warped, some smooth.

Cas wanted to know each story, and perhaps one day he would ask, but Dean was nearly writhing beneath him and to drag this out now would be cruel. 

He scooted lower and without warning, pushed his hands against the firm globes of Dean’s ass. Dean yelped and pushed a hand into the bed, raising himself up just enough to turn and look back at Cas. He looked wrecked. Cas smirked and kneaded his hands down. Dean groaned and flopped back into the pillows, shamelessly pushing his hips back into Cas’s hands. 

Cas curled his fingers under Dean’s waistband, gripping the smooth skin over Dean’s hips, making his direction obvious. 

“Can I?”

“Yes,” Dean immediately half answered, half moaned. 

Cas slowly, teasingly dragged Dean’s pyjama bottoms and boxers down in one go. He heard the moment Dean’s cock sprang free because he let out a deeply satisfied noise and immediately flipped onto his back. It stretched up towards Dean’s stomach, thick and reddened. 

Cas paused, hovering on his knees over Dean. He was unearthly beautiful, flushed and nearly panting, completely naked under him. Dean could have been the inspiration for the Laocoon, he may as well have sat for Michelangelo, for Bernini, for Rodin. 

“Cas, please,” Dean begged softly. Cas trailed his fingers up and back down Dean’s sides. Dean shivered under his touch. 

“Please what Dean?”

“You can’t just-“

Cas waited, but Dean didn’t seem to have an ending for that sentence, so he finished it for him. 

“I can’t just worship you? Kiss every inch of your skin? Pay attention to every freckle, every scar?”

“Cas,” Dean breathed out again, this time throwing an arm over his face to hide his blush. 

“Dean, you deserve to be loved so deeply, so totally and completely that any insecurity is permanently chased from your mind. You, are perfect.” Cas informed him. Dean lifted his arm and his eyes were glossy, a slightly shocked look that punched Cas right in the heart. Had nobody told him this before?

Cas shuffled lower, letting his breath ghost over Dean were he lay, twitching and already glistening. 

“Can I?” He asked again, looking up at Dean through the shadow of his own lashes. 

“Please,” Dean sighed, letting his warm fingers tangle once again in Cas’s hair. Cas gently gripped the base of Dean’s cock, not tight enough to provide any real relief. He kissed a line down to Dean’s balls, where they hung warm and heavy, then back up, reverently slow. 

Dean, for all his restraint, was arching off the bed, trying to get closer, so Cas gave him what he wanted, swallowing him down with tantalizing swirls of his tongue. He pulled off with an obscene pop and kissed and teased Dean again until he was properly breathless, nearly oversensitive. 

Cas took him in his mouth, ignoring the sting of Dean hitting the back of his throat and swallowing instead. Dean let out an incredibly hot moan as Cas set a rhythm, and that sound tipped him over the edge. He allowed one hand to slip into his boxers and finally gave himself some relief. The other stroked up Dean’s thigh, occasionally stopping to roll and tug on his balls. 

Considering how long Cas had spent teasing and pushing Dean closer to the edge, it was surprising how long he managed to hold on. But oh, when he did let go, what a glorious sight that was. Cas tipped over the edge, watching Dean arch and gasp and swallowing down pulse after pulse. 

It was several long moments before Cas gently popped off again and pulled his now sticky hand out of his pants. He kneeled for a moment, panting, watching Dean float in his own post orgasmic fog before he padded to the bathroom and cleaned up. 

When he made it back to bed, Dean was still a limp puddle of muscle. Cas slipped under the covers and curled into Dean, who immediately put an arm around Cas, tugging him closer. 

“That was amazing,” Dean breathed out. His voice sounded drugged. 

Cas stretched up and kissed Dean’s cheek, then snuggled back against his chest and let sleep claim him. 

Several hours later, Cas shifted in bed, and his heart froze in his throat when his hand glided easily across the cold, empty sheets. He bolted upright. 

Dean was gone. 

All at once, Cas flung the blanket back and leapt out of bed, but his panic ended as suddenly as it began. 

Dean was on the sofa, hands tangled in his softly tousled hair, staring at his bare feet in the moonlight. 

“Dean?” Cas croaked out, voice rough from sleep.

Dean looked up and it seemed to take a few seconds for him to float back to reality from whatever train of thought he was on. 

“Why did you leave?”

Dean reached beside him and picked up his phone. 

“Sam texted. There’s a big haunting case in Ohio and he asked me to come.” 

Cas swallowed. Ohio was pretty far, but from the torn look on Dean’s face, it was clear that he already knew that. Cas sat gingerly on the sofa. He didn’t know what Dean needed right now, but it definitely wasn’t a glimpse into his erratically selfish heart. 

“Cas, I don’t know how to do this,” Dean said after a long suspended moment. 

“Do what?” Cas asked gently, wildly hoping Dean wasn’t breaking up with him.

“The long walks on the beach and the slow fucking. Having someone cook with me and wait for me at home.” Dean swallowed harshly. “I can’t ever be what you want me to be Cas. I’ve seen too much to let it all go.”

“Dean,” Cas said, not caring how broken his voice sounded. He felt broken. “How could you _ever_ think I needed you to change before I could love you? I know what you do. I know the kind of man you are, deep down inside. Me and hunting? it was never a one or the other deal. You can have them both.”

Dean turned to look at him, eyes full of anguish. “How Cas? How is that ever going to work? How can I keep a real relationship going with you when I’m chasing ghosts all across the country?”

All at once, the distance between them was too much, so Cas decided to fix it. He scooted closer until his thigh was pressed against Dean’s and took his limp hand. 

“You’ll come and go. When you finish a hunt, when you need a break, when you can afford to take some time off, you’ll come here. Home. And I’ll be waiting.”

Dean huffed out a hollow laugh. “Cas I can’t treat you like some 50’s housewife. That ain’t how love works.”

Love. The thought. The _possibility,_ made Cas’s heart swell.

“Love is sacrifice. It’s a give and take. I understand that you’re not the type of person to kick back when you have the means and knowledge to solve a problem. I appreciate that about you, and if it means I can’t have you here by my side all the time, then so be it.”

Dean looked at him, wanting to believe the words, wanting so badly it showed plain as daylight on his face. Cas pulled him into a half twisted hug. 

“Just, maybe teach me how to shoot a gun in case more vampires come after me while you’re gone.”

Dean laughed for real this time. A loud sudden sound that lifted all the weight off Castiel’s shoulders. 

“You have to cut off a vampire’s head to kill it,” Dean informed him from the crook of his shoulder. 

Cas swallowed, trying not to get nauseous. He hadn’t even butchered an animal before, to cut off a head was….

“I’ll work on it,” He replied after a long beat. 

Dean threaded his fingers through his hair, sending sparks down his spine. “Maybe my service to the world will have to be teaching you to survive. Who knows? It might turn out to be a full time job.”

Cas laughed, because it was clearly a joke, but he couldn’t help the twist in his gut, how he wished somehow, in some world, that were true. 

“Let’s go back to bed Dean. We can deal with this in the morning.”

Dean nodded and allowed Cas to tug him up and lead him back under the still warm covers. This time, when Cas wrapped himself around him again, he did so maybe a little more tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me tell you all about a thing. I lost my taste and smell when I had covid, and so far, it hasn’t come back. I can bite into onions like they’re apples and taste nothing. I can eat a whole lemon without flinching, and taste nothing. When I make tea, I no longer waste a tea bag, I just boil water and drink it plain because it tastes the same. I cannot smell burnt toast. I cannot smell axe spray. I cannot smell the chicken coop. It’s kind of amusing, but also, wtf.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so late and I’m SO sorry. Outlining this fic out has stressed me out a lot, and I finally realized why. I’ve been going through the show and trying to see where I can weave cannon into it and worrying about cannon timeline, and it’s just too much. So from here on out, I will be officially cannon divergent. I don’t mind weaving in particular plot points but I won’t be worrying about keeping it all chronologically the same.
> 
> That being said, you guys have been so SO helpful in easing this story along. Your suggestions are what keep me going and I get so happy every time you guys throw me a new one. I want to hear ALL your ideas. (More about this in the end note)
> 
> The idea to have an argument comes from Cmccle01 and Sam and Samuel coming over comes from Why_do_you_want_to_know

It took a couple months, but they eventually settled into some sort of rhythm. Dean tried to keep his hunts close by, but sometimes a case a couple days out required his attention. On those day, Cas found himself pacing. He never slept well without Dean in his arms. If he wasn’t at the bar, he spent long hours clicking his phone on and off, watching the minutes tick by. He picked up extra shifts and Crowley loved him for it. 

When Dean came home from hunts like that, he was always a little more tense. Cas couldn’t figure out why until it dawned on him that Dean expected him to be angry about the distance, the missed phone calls. As if a week or two apart could erase Cas’s feelings and replace them with a bitterness that didn’t want Dean around. On days like that, Cas was more liberal with his kisses and casual touches, and Dean would relax again eventually. 

Sometimes there were long stretches where Dean was home. Other hunters happened to be closer to a case than he was and would jump on it first. Cas would listen to one side of phone conversations as Dean gave any advice he had to offer. The lore Dean knew off by heart was both extensive and fascinating. 

When a couple of Dean’s reference books appeared on his shelves, he obsessed over every word. He often woke in the dark to shuffle quietly out of their bedroom and lie, soft and languid on the sofa with a book on demons propped open against his knees. 

The stories were wild, exorcisms and Hell coups and possession, warding symbols, summoning spells. Except they weren’t stories. This was Dean’s life. His life too since Dean was now a mostly constant presence. 

Sometimes Dean woke too and caught him reading. He would frown, just barely, before gently shutting the book and crawling into his lap instead. The distractions were hot, heady, definitely not unwelcome, but Cas was not blind. He could see Dean’s subtle hints, how despite what he said with his words, his actions screamed that he wanted Cas as far away from hunting life as possible. 

Some things he kept his word on. Dean taught him how to shoot a gun, and Cas learned he was a terrible shot. Still, the warmth of Dean’s body, the curves and hard lines pressing in behind him, correcting his stance, made the long hours of practice completely worthwhile. 

Dean picked up a few shifts at the bar when things were quiet. Crowley immediately took to him, but their banter was so harsh that they would have appeared to be enemies to someone who didn’t know them both so well. 

Gabriel popped in unannounced on a day when they were sorting their laundry, piles of clothing spilling out of the teeny unfinished room where the machines were. Dean was stiff and protective, while Gabriel was sassy and protective. When he left, Gabriel informed Cas that he would snap each of Dean’s bones twice if he ever hurt him. It wasn’t surprising, Gabriel rarely approved of anyone, but the words still twisted at Cas’s heart, especially since Cas suspected Dean had probably already had each of his bones broken at one point or another. 

Six months into their new arrangement, on a grey and rainy morning, Sam and Samuel called, said they were ten minutes out, and that they had to talk to Dean. Something important. 

Dean was tense, pacing. Skin zinging and buzzing with anxiety. Cas didn’t know Sam when he had a soul, but even so he could tell that things had broken a little between him Dean since he lost it. The pain of that was not lessened when Sam chose to hunt with his grandfather, leaving his bother behind. 

Cas wanted to calm Dean, but he knew if he laid a hand on his shoulder it would be brushed off. If he tried to kiss him he would be met with a cold distracted stillness. 

He felt something close to relief when there was a possessive knock at the door. 

“Dean,” Sam nodded to his brother, stepping just barely inside, Samuel following close behind. Their boots were muddy and crusted dirt fell to the tiles in flakes. 

“Hey Sammy, what’s cooking?” Dean’s tone was too light, too casual. His eyes scanned his bother up and down, then spared a brief glance at his grandfather, who was side eyeing Cas. 

“Is there somewhere we can talk in private?” Samuel asked gruffly, skipping straight past the pleasantries, outright glaring at Castiel now.

Dean’s face soured. “There ain’t nobody here to hide things from,” He said firmly, leaving no room for debate. He shamelessly took Cas’s hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. Samuel gave Cas a hard, disapproving look, then shrugged indifferently. Cas didn’t miss the fact that Dean never invited them further into the house and they never removed their shoes or coats. 

“We found some alphas. Thought you might be interested in taking them down with us.” His tone was clipped and informative, hinting at past conversations where he had likely updated Dean on the _alpha_ situation. Whatever that was.

Dean glanced at his brother, but Sam’s face was blank, completely devoid of any emotion. He looked back at Cas, who could see the wheels turning. He knew Dean was calculating how long he would be gone, how risky the whole operation might be, and probably if it was safe to leave Cas behind. It had been months, but he still worried about another kidnapping.

Perhaps it was the panic in Dean’s eyes, perhaps it was the frustration of being subtly edged out of this portion of Dean’s life for so long. Cas didn’t know what made him do it, but he had to prove that he wasn’t a child, helpless and in need of protection. He opened his mouth. 

“I’ll go with you.”

Sure. He _expected_ resistance, maybe even a full blown argument, but what he did not expect was a loud, brash bark of laughter from Samuel. He laughed, then continued laughing until he had tears gleaming in his eyes. 

Dean looked taken aback, somewhat horrified, somewhat confused. He dropped Cas’s hand and crossed his arms.

“Sorry son, but there’s no way we’re taking this dead loss with us. Don’t think I don’t notice how you come scampering back to him every chance you get. I won’t lug around a liability if I don’t have to.”

“ _Samuel._ ” Dean said sharply, a warning. Cas’s heart twisted with malice, but that feeling spoiled into something closer to hurt when Dean didn’t oppose any of Samuel’s harsh words. 

“Get out.” Dean ordered, pointing them back the way they came. 

Samuel glanced obviously around the tidy kitchen and book filled living room. “Nice place you’ve settled down in.” The way he said it made it clear exactly what he thought of a man who settled down. 

“We leave in an hour, you know where to find us,” Sam said indifferently as he ducked out the door. They left nothing but muddy tracks and a palpable tension behind. 

Dean locked the door behind him and scrubbed a hand down his face as he turned. 

“Cas I’m so sorry.” 

And Cas could forgive him, he wanted to forgive him, if only he knew what Dean was apologizing for. The fact that Samuel said those things, or the fact that Cas had heard them?

Dean reached for his arm but Cas stepped lightly out of reach. 

“Why haven’t you taught me out to hunt?” Cas asked, cutting right to the sore spot. He could do nothing about the way Samuel, and probably even Sam thought of him, but this he could fix. This he could learn. 

Guilt flooded Dean’s expression. This is where Cas usually dropped it, but this time he refused to let it go. He couldn’t let himself remain the sheltered boyfriend. The one in constant need of protection. The _liability._

“Cas, its not that simple.”

“Oh I think it is.”

“It’s not! There’s so much more to it than just shooting a gun Cas, and you don’t even have _that_ down!”

That stung. Even more so because Dean was right. 

“I don’t care Dean, I want to help.”

“Maybe you _should_ care! You only get one life here. All it takes is a slip of the knife; a spray of poison and you’re gone.”

“Yeah, like you don’t face those risks every time you go out?” Cas screamed, properly frustrated now. 

“I don’t matter!” Dean yelled back just as loud.

“Like FUCK you don’t.”

“I _don’t._ You think my life is worth any more than the victims of those monsters?”

“Yeah. It’s worth more to _me_.”

“Then that’s both selfish and stupid Cas. You’re not out there. You don’t see how horrible it is when a mother loses her child to a werewolf or when some djinn feeds on a grandfather for years and years. People literally don’t even know this kind of shit exists. You think I do any of this because I _want_ to? Because it’s all cupcakes and rainbows and coming home a hero? I would give my life over and over to protect these people, but I won’t give yours. I won’t lose you to this.” Dean was ranting, almost desperately now.

“Well maybe I’m not yours to lose!” Cas snapped back angrily. The flash of pain that danced across Dean’s face was satisfying for only the breath of a second before Cas regretted saying that. It wasn’t what he meant, but he had gone too far to stop now.

“My life is my own. You’re not responsible for keeping me bubble wrapped. If I want to learn to hunt and to help you then I should be able to.”

“Fine,” Dean snapped, half angry half hurt. “If you want to learn then go right the fuck ahead. But you won’t be learning from me. I won’t be the one who shoved you headfirst into danger.”

And okay. Now the guns were really out. 

“What?” Cas asked harshly, anger flooding his words. “Am I too stupid to learn from you? Am I too clumsy to fight? Am I too small? Too weak? I’m a fucking _bartender._ I’ve intimidated men twice as big as you into backing down. I’ve broken up more fights than you can even imagine.” His arms swung up in frustration. 

Dean flinched, just barely. 

Cas deflated, immediately. His heart felt like it had been punched. 

Not only was he in the wrong here, he now felt like crap for having discovered one of Dean’s triggers like this. Dean _could_ imagine. He had been fighting monsters probably before he could even read, first his father, now the countless supernatural creatures who went rogue. 

Though the anger had leached out of him, the hurt did not. He knew Dean would not give up in this, because they’d had this talk before. Never so heated, never with so many emotions, but they had had it before and Cas had never won. He suddenly just wanted to be alone. 

“Go,” Cas croaked, not trusting himself to say any more. 

Dean looked crushed, and Cas knew he had said the wrong thing, but he didn’t know how to fix it now. 

Slowly, as if giving him time to reconsider, Dean laced up his boots and picked up his keys and phone. Cas stood frozen in the hall, not watching him, but also not exactly looking away. 

When Dean stepped into his space to kiss him, Cas turned his head and the kiss landed clumsily on his cheek. 

He saw the flex of Dean’s clenched jaw. He heard Dean say words, but didn’t understand any of them. He watched as the love of his life followed his brother and grandfather out the door. 

It was only when the rumble of the Impala’s engine faded that Cas realized he hadn’t let Dean kiss him, and that kiss may have been the last one. His last chance. 

He knelt right there on the muddy tiles, suddenly unable to breathe. 

Something had to change, because he couldn’t survive this kind of pain much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *kinda sorta spoiler alert but not really*
> 
> This may be taboo, but I’ve decided to share my (very) rough outline because screw it, we’re working on this together now. I may as well give you guys credit for most of these ideas anyways, and this way you have a chance to request any scenes you want to see before it’s over. 
> 
> 9\. Cas’s first official hunt  
> 10\. Nightmare scene, fluff and comfort (Why_do_you_want_to_know)  
> 11\. Dean gets snatched by a monster and it’s up to Cas to save him (Cmccle01)  
> 12\. Leviathan clone of Dean freaks Cas out  
> 13\. Cas takes on Sam’s crazies (like when the wall broke down in cannon)  
> 14\. Dean has some rage issues from the mark of cain  
> 15\. Cas kills Billie to save Dean?  
> 16\. Ending
> 
> I'm always super flexible with outlines this rough, so please throw out ideas for chapters or scenes or art inspo, the works. There may be filler chapters along the way but as you guys have surely figured out by now, I have no idea what I'm really doing with this.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing case fics with a burning passion

For the first week, Dean’s texts consisted of nothing but apologies and location updates. Castiel never knew how to respond, so he just… didn’t. Part of him was guilty for the radio silence, but mostly he was hurt, like a petulant child that had been told he couldn’t have something he desperately wanted. 

The second and third week, Dean had stopped apologizing. His texts came more sporadically, often from different phone numbers. Cas gave them cursory glances. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved to know Dean was still alive, but each text lit another fire inside of him. He could be - _should_ be - beside Dean, not sitting cozily at home, pretending life was going on as usual. 

The fourth week, Cas took two days off. He spent them poring through whatever lore books Dean had left behind. They didn’t make him feel much better, but it felt like _something._ A statement that he _could_ do this if he wanted to. Could do this alone.

By the fifth week, his anger had dissipated, and if he looked closely, so had his hurt. Dean hadn’t texted in several days, which wasn’t exactly unlike him, but for some reason, this time Cas was worried. 

Two more days passed and Cas broke his radio silence and messaged Dean on every number he could think of, asking if everything was okay and when he would be home. That’s all he really wanted, he realized. For Dean to be _home._

When four more days brought no news, Cas took another day off. He surfed the web for weird accidents. Called police stations about a black Impala. Contacted every hospital in a 100 mile radius to see if they had any John Does. 

Nothing. And now Cas was really panicking. 

At this point, he didn’t care _one bit_ about hunting. Hell, he would have sworn never to touch a single lore book for the rest of his life, to never even _think_ about a vampire, if only it would bring Dean back to him. 

Castiel wasn’t sure how capital G _God_ fit into the whole picture - into a world with literal _monsters_ in it - but one night he found himself sending up a desperate prayer. Not even for Dean’s return…just for his safety. Just for him to be _alive._

So a month an a half later, when Cas was glumly stirring honey into his tea and the door swung open, he half thought he was hallucinating. But no, Dean was real. Filthy, _exhausted_ beyond all measure, but real. Castiel didn’t even hesitate to gather Dean into his arms. Didn’t even pay attention to the _obscene_ amount of blood and dirt crusted on his shirt. 

“Hi, Cas,” Dean chuckled, sad and nervous and fucking _drained_ all at the same time. 

“Dean I am so SO sorry. I changed my mind. I don’t need to hunt. I swear I won’t ever bother you about it again, if you promise to never disappear like that,” Cas breathed out in a rush against Dean’s neck. Dean smelled like salt. Sweat. One sharp thing after another. But Cas didn’t care. He wouldn’t let him go if he was offered all the world. 

“Cas,” Dean croaked out. “Can’t breathe.”

At that, Castiel loosened his hold slightly and gave Dean some space, but just the space allowed in the confine of his arms. 

“I changed my mind too,” Dean said softly, reaching out to tuck a lock of Castiel’s hair behind his ear. Cas tipped his head, wondering what about. 

“I’m teaching you to hunt,” Dean said firmly.

Cas couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. It had been _months_ of beating around the bush. Quiet hints, nudges, all of which were deflected immediately. 

“Why?” Cas asked, hardly daring to wonder what had changed. 

Dean gritted his teeth. “Because. I need people around me I can trust.”

And that phrase alone filled Cas’s veins with ice, because if Dean didn’t trust those around him, that meant he had a damned good reason not to trust them. Which meant he had been stabbed in the back, or _worse._

“What happened?” Cas found himself breathing out, voice full of concern and sympathy. 

“Dear old grandpa was more manipulative than I realized. Than _we_ realized. Sam was kinda double crossed too.” Dean said _Sam_ in the same tone you would use when talking about a friend you once knew. Cas didn’t even have to ask to know Sam still hadn’t gotten his soul back, which meant Dean still hadn’t gotten his brother back. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas said softly, pulling Dean against him for another hug. And just like that, they slid back to normal. Or whatever passed for normal between them. 

“Go shower, love. I can heat up some stew if you’re hungry.”

Dean looked at him like he was a rare and precious thing, something he was scared to break. Slowly, tenderly, he reached a hand out and brushed a thumb across Castiel’s cheekbone, and in that movement Cas _knew._ He understood Dean’s fear perfectly. He could see the pain it brought him, to involve someone else in the hunting life, but he also saw the steely strength. The determination. 

It was the right thing to do. The _only_ thing to do. 

The next week passed by, eerily quiet. Nothing strange in the news reports, no calls from other hunters, nothing on the radar at all. It was fine; gave Dean a chance to pour all the lore he knew into Cas, and good lord did he know a lot. 

Castiel’s head was spinning with sneak tactics, monster weak points, weapons training, rehearsing separation and escape plans. He learned very quickly that the Winchesters seemed to have a plan and a script for _everything._ If they got separated, if they got separated and _arrested,_ if they got separated and _kidnapped._

It was a whirlwind, but one in which Cas spent every second of every day with Dean, and was somehow happier than ever. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was doing something useful and irreplaceable. Like he was preparing to make a big difference somewhere. To someone. 

When the call finally _did_ come, Dean sprang into action immediately. He had barely clicked off the call when he started talking a mile a minute. 

“Cas, it’s a shtriga. Hour south of here. Sam found the bastard feeding on _children_ in a hospital.”

“No,” Castiel half gasped. He was horrified down to his very bones, even though he barely remembered what a shtriga was. Something about eating life force? 

“We gotta go,” Dean said. He had been shoving clothes and a couple stray weapons into a duffle, but he abruptly straightened and snatched the impala keys from the coffee table. 

“Will Sam be meeting us there?” Cas asked as he tugged on his shoes. 

“Yep. His motel is a little closer to the hospital so he’ll probably make it there first. Hope the idiot waits like he said he would,” Dean said. It was clear from his tone that he didn’t think it would be likely, and even more clear from the speed of his driving. 

They made it to the hospital in closer to 40 minutes than an hour, and Dean let out a loud pent up breath when he saw Sam, leaning casually against the side of a glossy black truck. 

“Well, thank fuck,” Dean muttered under his breath, pulling the car in park beside his brother’s. He stepped out and Cas followed, eyes shifting around for signs of danger. He knew the monster was technically _inside_ the hospital, but they were on a hunt now. Couldn’t be too careful.

“What’s happening, Sammy?” Dean asked, looking his brother up and down. Sam somehow seemed harder than the last time Cas had seen him. More determined. 

“Hi. Here’s the plan. Castiel will pose as a reporter and interview the doc as a distraction. You and I will snag some gear and let ourselves into the ward room. Hopefully the children are all in one place and we can take them out of there before Castiel runs out of questions,” Sam finished, jabbing a thumb in Cas’s general direction. It was rude, but the fact that he had been included in the game plan at all made Cas bite back his snarky reply and respond with something tamer. 

“So I’m just supposed to be the distraction? Why would he believe I’m a reporter anyways?” 

“Because,” Sam said with an exasperated sigh. “You’ll be convincing enough to _make_ him believe it.”

“You’ll be great, Cas,” Dean said reassuringly, clapping him on the arm with a smile. It was frustrating, being kept away from all the action, but Cas could already tell there was no point in protesting. The brothers had made up their minds. 

“Everyone good?” Sam asked, tucking a gun into his waistband. 

“Yep.” Dean patted his pocket where Cas knew he had stashed a mean looking knife. 

“He’ll be in the paediatric wing, Castiel. I think you’ll know him when you see him,” Sam said as they approached the main hospital entrance. The doors slid open in front of them, and Cas had a million more questions but no opportunity to ask them. He was ushered into the middle of the emergency room, and Dean made a tiny hand signal to Sam before they disappeared down a hallway. 

Cas looked up at the glowing directory, already lost and unsteady, and the hunt had barely begun. He needed to pull himself together _now._ He had one job to do, and he’d be damned if he didn’t do it well. One arrow pointed left to a hall that said _Women and Children’s,_ which Cas had to assume was closer to where he needed to be than the emergency room was. 

He wove through the bustling nurses, trying to look like he knew where he was going because if he appeared out of place, he would surely be stopped and questioned. 

The hallway ended in a fork, the left side pointing to _Labour and Delivery,_ the right pointing to _Paediatrics._ Cas sighed in relief and turned right. Now he just had to find the right doctor. 

The place was a _hive._ People shouldered past him in scrubs, lab coats, dress shirts and slacks. Some had stethoscopes, some were carrying equipment, one woman was wheeling a cart with a whole bunch of coloured top tubes. He had no idea which ones were doctors, which were nurses, which were parents. 

He spun in place, dizzy with the overlapping noise of it all. Slowly, he backed up until he hit a wall and tried to steady himself. To calm down and think rationally. 

Up at the corner of the wall, a curved mirror caught his eye. It’s warped image gave a view down the hallway, and down that hallway was a horribly disfigured…thing. Cas squinted and it turned, looking right at him through the reflection of the mirror. He reeled back. It’s face was half rotted, the bleach white of bone overlaid with peeling strips of flesh. 

It was wearing a lab coat. 

One breath, then two, and Cas pushed off the wall to follow the monster. Because that had to be it. He turned the corner and slammed straight into the guy. Huh. Guess objects in mirror are closer than they appear. 

“So sorry, sir,” Cas said, putting a hand on the Shtriga’s shoulder. It felt human, and his face up close also looked human. Cas might have thought he had the wrong guy, except there was nobody else down this hallway. 

“It’s fine. Excuse me,” The doctor said, trying to shoulder his way past. Cas stepped in front of him again. 

“Actually, I have a couple questions for you if you have a second.”

“I really don’t, son. There’s an entire room full of children waiting for my attention and they’re all extremely critical.”

“That’s what I wanted to ask about actually,” Cas interrupted, stepping in the doctor’s way again. “I’m a reporter with the Daily…News.”

The Shtriga squinted at him. “If you’re a reporter, then where’s your notepad? Your camera?”

Cas swallowed, thinking fast. “I have a master’s degree and a perfect memory. Notepads are for the amateur reporters.” He bit the inside of his cheek, wanting to kick himself for spitting out the most _flimsy_ lie anyone could have ever come up with, but the monster only raised an eyebrow at him, so Cas continued. 

“I’m doing a piece on your new innovative treatment, and was wondering if you could explain the science behind it?” 

The doctor sighed. “It’s a complicated concoction of antibiotics and antivirals, difficult to explain to someone without a knowledge of the medicine behind the process. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Just a couple more questions and I’ll be out of your hair,” Cas blabbered on. The Shtriga crossed his arms and tapped his foot, and Castiel’s mind was gloriously blank. It had only been a couple minutes, but he hoped with all he was that Dean and Sam had managed to smuggle the children out by now. He couldn’t stall much longer. 

“Well?” The Shtriga asked, getting impatient. 

“Uh, what was your childhood like?” Castiel blurted. 

The shtriga looked hard at him. “I fail to see how that’s relevant.”

“Oh it is,” Cas said, trying his best to sound convincing. 

“It was… normal,” he answered, truly exasperated now. “I appreciate the interest but I really do have to get back to my patients now.” He stepped past Cas, and began walking down the hall, so Cas jogged to keep up. 

“I’d be very interested in seeing your work environment, sir.”

“No, that’s not appropriate. It violates all patient confi-“ He cut off abruptly. The door to the room he was about to enter was already cracked open, and the doctor blanched at the sight. 

He pushed inside, and Cas followed. 

Dean was in full medical getup, scrubs, lab coat, even a stethoscope hooked around his neck. The outfit would have made Cas hot all over, except Dean was currently trying to untie a child from a whole bunch of tubes, and there were more important things to worry about than the way the thin material hugged his thighs. 

“What are you doing?” The Shtriga asked sharply. 

“It’s all over,” Sam said. He had disentangled a little girl from her bed and was holding her to his chest, but she was limp as a rag doll. 

“What’s all over? You can’t take these children away, they’re undergoing important medical treatment,” The monster hissed. “Who are you anyways? I haven’t seen you two around here. Where are your badges?”

“We know what you’ve been doing,” Dean said firmly. He gave up on the tubing and moved instead to stand protectively in front of the child. 

“Hunters,” The doctor snarled. His composed exterior cracked, and Cas watched, horrified, as his face morphed into something less than human. 

“You can’t save them. It’s too late. Even if you take them away from here, they’ll die anyways.”

“Not if I do this,” Dean said. Cas looked at him, confused, because what could Dean _possibly_ do from all the way across the room? He pulled the knife out of his lab coat pocked, flicked it open, and tossed it. 

Cas watch as it sailed through the air, and he reached a hand out and somehow, somehow caught it by the handle. He knew in that moment what Dean had meant. What he needed to do. So he whirled around, arm outstretched, aiming to slice the monster’s head off, and he _missed._

“SAM,” Dean shouted as the monster spun on Cas and shoved him against a rack of supplies. Bandaids and gauze fluttered to the floor. 

The next few moments were nothing but a blur. Someone picked up the knife he had dropped, and there was a loud wet slice, then a thunk. 

Cas was floating, way up out of his body right up until Dean put a hand to his jaw. 

“-turned out fine. It’s all okay. See? They’re waking up.” 

The sound returned to his ears and it was only then that he realized it had been missing. Cas took a breath and the world came back into focus. All around him, the children were stirring in their beds. 

“What happened?” 

“You missed an open shot,” Sam snapped. Dean shot him a glare. 

“What my brother means, is that you did your best and the bastard knocked you out a little bit. Killing him seems to have fixed the life force shit though, so it’s all good now, yeah?”

Cas nodded slowly, even though he was feeling more and more like crap with every passing second. _How_ could he have missed that? The dude was standing _right there._

“Come on,” Dean said, reaching a hand down to haul him up. “We’d better get going before anyone figures out we were here.”

Cas looked around at the ruined room. There were supplies scattered everywhere. Glass shattered in a corner. A stack of blankets and sheets knocked to the floor. He was out like a light for a _serious_ fight. 

Dean didn’t give him any time to process. He pushed the call button for a nurse to come, then took Cas’s hand and pulled him from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I love Sam to death. Sorry he sounds like so much of a jerk here, he’s soulless and thats so much harder to write.


End file.
